


Somebody, Somewhere (is missing you now)

by Squeaky



Series: Already Where You Belong [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adopted Children, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Junior Drivers' License Regulations, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Apologies to the NY State DMV, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, First Time Blow Jobs, Hurt Bruce Banner, Hurt Tony Stark, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Past Mention of Parent Death, Pepper Potts Needs a Hug, Phil Coulson Has the Patience of a Saint, Phil Coulson is a Great Dad, Protective Phil Coulson, Sick Pietro Maximoff, Steve Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-24 16:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 66,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4927408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeaky/pseuds/Squeaky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything seems to be going well with Phil Coulson's adopted family: Steve, Tony and Pepper are off at university in New York City while Clint, Natasha and Bucky are finishing their high school studies on the farm in Poughkeepsie. But nothing good lasts forever. </p>
<p>Trouble is brewing. Steve and Bucky's fledgling relationship is failing and Clint and Natasha are caught up in the maelstrom.  Meanwhile, Tony's attempt to befriend a scruffy-looking guy from his biology class leads to a fight with Pepper severe enough to potentially end their relationship as well.</p>
<p>Bruce Banner, the man from Tony's class, has his own secrets to keep, especially from Tony Stark. Bruce is protecting the twins, Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, without knowing that they have their own reasons for hating Tony and everything the Stark name represents.</p>
<p>But when Pietro get terribly sick, Bruce turns to the only person he can think of to help--Tony Stark. Tony and Steve go to the rescue and quickly realize Bruce and the twins need more than they can provide. They call their adopted father. And suddenly Phil finds himself face-to-face with the child he'd tried so hard to save and thought he'd lost forever...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somebody, Somewhere (is missing you now)

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from ["Somebody, Somewhere."](https://soundcloud.com/spincount/amelia-curran-somebody-somewhere-oct-7-2014) By Amelia Curran. A great song to add to your repertoire of alternative Canadian music. 
> 
> **Please** take note of the tag warnings! There is mention of past child abuse and the canonical death of Bruce's mother through domestic violence. Please don't read if it may trigger you. 
> 
> The amazing art for this series was created by [ Taibhrigh](http://archiveofourown.org/users/taibhrigh/pseuds/taibhrigh). You can find her livejournal with more art here: [ Coffee and Dreams.](http://taibhrigh.livejournal.com/)
> 
> And as always, the most gigantic, massive thanks to [Taste_is_Sweet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_is_Sweet/works) for her beta fabulousness. She doesn't like to beta, but she likes to beta for me. If that's not love, I don't know what is.
> 
> And THANK YOU! to all you spectacular people who commented and kudoed the first two fics in this series. You asked for Bruce, and here he is. I really hope you like it.
> 
> * * *

* * *

  


  


Phil’s cell phone rang just as he was finishing strapping on his ballistic vest. He fished it out of the pocket on the vest’s front, gritting his teeth at the interruption. They were about to leave to arrest a known human trafficker and time wasn’t on their side. Phil glanced at the phone’s screen quickly, fully intending to shut it off. 

It was a FaceTime request, and Phil recognized the boy immediately. 

“Bruce?” Phil said as he accepted the call. “This is a really bad time—”

“I’m—I’m really sorry,” Bruce had bitten his bottom lip, and even over the small screen Phil could see that he’d chewed it until it’d bled. “I would’ve never called but you said I should call you if I needed help, and, well, I need help.” His brown eyes were huge.

Phil forced himself not to sigh. “What’s wrong?”

“Coulson!” Nick Fury called from across the armoury. “We’ve got to move on that arrest warrant now!”

Phil nodded at his Captain, holding up one finger to indicate he needed time. 

“It’s this new foster family. There’re two other kids here. Twins. And one’s a girl. She’s really pretty, and, um, I think our foster father thinks so, too?” Bruce winced as he said it, like he was sure Phil wouldn’t believe him. Which only made sense. No one at Bruce's school had believed how badly his father was beating his mother, or how badly Bruce was being smacked around. His father was a scientist, both well-known and well respected in his field. It was unimaginable that a man such as that would ever take a belt to his son. 

No one believed it until the day Bruce ran to the neighbours in terror, his clothes covered in his mother’s blood. The only reason he’d lived was because his shirt had ripped when his father grabbed for him. 

Phil had met Bruce at the neighbours when he’d gone there in his role as a detective with the Special Victims’ Unit. It had been one of Phil’s first cases with the SVU, and his heart had immediately gone out to the small dark-haired boy who was sitting far too quietly for a child who’d just witnessed his mother’s murder.

Right then and there Phil had vowed to himself that he’d do everything he could to help that child, including giving Bruce his private cell phone number to call if he’d ever needed him. That had been four years ago and he still heard from Bruce regularly. 

His father was rotting in jail now, but the damage had been done. Bruce had been placed with Child Protective Services, and for the first three years, things had seemed to go okay. But his anguish and his horror at what had happened had started to manifest themselves in bouts of anger and defiance as soon as Bruce became a teenager. This was the fifth placement Bruce had had in the last year and a half. 

Sometimes Bruce called because he needed to vent, sometimes they just chatted. And sometimes Phil tried to prevent Bruce from acting out and needing to be moved—again. This was the first time where it sounded like there might be something really wrong. 

And of course it was the exact second that Phil had to leave. 

“So your foster father thinks this girl is pretty?” Phil repeated, hoping the situation wasn’t going to be as bad as that opening suggested. “I’m not sure that’s an actual problem—”

“He’s tried to touch her,” Bruce interrupted. “And she didn’t like it. Her brother told me.”

That got Phil’s attention. “Is he trying to touch her _sexually?_ "

Bruce’s wince got worse, but he nodded. 

“Coulson!” Fury bellowed, and Phil looked up at his boss to indicate that he’d heard. Fury scowled at him and gestured for him to end the call.

“Look, I’ve really got to go.” Phil tried to ignore the dejected look that instantly appeared on the boy’s face. “But I believe you, Bruce. I promise I believe you. And I swear I will do everything in my power to help you as soon as I get back. Okay?”

“Okay. But…but what do I do in the meantime?”

“Get yourself and the girl and her brother away from this foster family and somewhere safe,” Phil said. “And I will call you as soon as I can. I promise.”

“Okay,” Bruce said again. “I’ll get us somewhere safe until you call.” 

“Perfect.” Phil smiled at him. “And Bruce? I’m really proud of you, protecting those other kids like that.”

A corner of Bruce’s mouth curled up. “Thanks.” 

“Now, Coulson!” Fury yelled.

“I’ve got to go. But I’ll call you!” Phil hung up before Bruce could reply.

Three hours later Phil was in the OR of New York Hospital, hemorrhaging from a bullet wound in his shoulder given to him by the man they’d gone to arrest: Loki Laufeyson. 

It took Phil over a week in hospital to recover enough to remember that he owed Bruce a telephone call, and another handful of days after that before he could even try. 

By the time Phil was able to sit up and dial his phone, there was no answer. Bruce was gone, and Phil had no idea how to find him.

* * *

“Hey.” Tony nudged Steve in the knee with the toe of his ridiculously expensive sneaker. “You see that kid over there?”

Steve glanced up from the massive pathophysiology textbook that was balancing on the triangle of his leg from his ankle crossed over his knee. “Which one? The library’s full of kids.”

Tony rolled his eyes, a gesture that was complete wasted on Steve as he’d immediately gone back to looking at his text. “That one.” He nudged Steve’s knee again, only harder this time.

“Ow!” Steve glared at him, but at least he was looking up. 

“That one,” Tony repeated, gesturing towards the student he meant.

“The one who’s asleep?”

“Yeah! He’s in my biology class.” 

“Oh.” Steve's eyes drifted back down towards his text. “He kind of looks like you.”

Tony blinked. “What? How can you tell? He’s asleep!” He poked Steve in the side to emphasize his point.

“Quit it.”

“How can you tell?” Tony poked him again.

“Quit it!” Steve smacked his hand.

“Tell me!”

Steve gestured emphatically towards the sleeping student. “Look at him! It’s pretty obvious.”

Tony looked at the sleeping guy, trying to figure out what Steve saw. He was lying horizontally across one of the large leather chairs that were scattered throughout the library. They were meant to be a comfortable spot for reading, but Tony had only ever seen students using them for naps. The guy’s head was balanced on one of the armrests, and his right knee was bent over the second one. His left leg was propped up so that his foot was flat against the floor.

He looked to be about Tony’s age, with the same type of thick, curly hair in a deep brown, though his looked uncombed and somewhat unwashed. His skin had the same olive tone Tony’s did, and they were practically the same height. But as far as Tony was concerned, that was where the similarities ended. He knew from class that the guy’s eyes were darker brown, and his shoulders were broader. His clothes looked well-worn and rumpled, while Tony looked pulled together and always well-dressed. Even his casual clothes had a certain flair, while this guy’s clothes looked like he practically lived in them. 

His arms were curled around the textbook he must’ve been reading before he passed out. 

“I don’t see it.” Tony nudged Steve’s shoulder with his own. “I think he looks more like Bucky.”

Steve frowned at him. “He looks nothing like Bucky.” 

Tony grinned. “I know.” 

Steve rolled his eyes. “Will you let me study?”

“No. Studying’s boring. Besides you know that stuff already.” 

“No I don’t. That’s why I’m studying it. Besides, midterms are the week after next.” 

“They start at the _end_ of the week after next,” Tony clarified. “And we have the midterm recess first. Plenty of time.”

“For you, maybe. But not all of us are teenage, playboy, trust-funded geniuses. I, for one, have to study.”

“You’re no fun.”

Steve smirked. “From you that’s actually a compliment.”

“Bitch,” Tony said without heat. He looked over at the other boy again. He’d shifted in his sleep so that his cheek was now against the armrest and his textbook was precariously close to sliding out of his arms and onto the floor. “Do you think he’s okay?”

That got Steve’s attention. “What’s wrong?”

“You tell me, nurse. I don’t know. He just looks…sick maybe?”

“He looks exhausted.”

“Wow! Did your nursing training teach you that? Who’d thought that sleeping people would be exhausted?”

Steve shot him a look. “I said that because of the marks under his eyes. They’re so dark you can see them from here. And his skin’s really pale.” He shrugged. “Looks like exhaustion to me.” 

Tony looked. Steve was right: there was a distinct pallor to the guy’s skin which made the dark purple streaks under his eyes all the more noticeable. It kind of explained the whole ‘passed out in the library’ thing as well. Tony frowned. “Why isn’t he in bed?”

“Maybe his roommates are too loud?” Steve suggested as he turned back to his text book. “I don’t know! Why don’t you ask him?”

“Because he’s asleep?” 

“Ask him when you see him in the class you share. What was it? Psychology?”

“Biology.” 

Steve looked up at him again. “I thought you were in engineering.”

“This is for my second degree. I need to take biology and neuropsych so I can learn how to attach prosthetics directly to the nervous system.” 

Steve blinked. “You’re doing this for Bucky.” 

Tony shrugged nonchalantly. “I promised your boyfriend an arm, so…”

Steve was still blinking, but now his eyes looked suspiciously wet. “Tony…” 

“Don’t do that!” Tony waved his hands near Steve’s face. “It’s not a big deal! Don’t care so much!” 

Steve laughed and wiped at his eyes with the pad of his thumb. “Not a big deal. Yeah, okay.”

“Besides,” Tony said, his voice suddenly softer, “Bucky’s my brother, too.”

Steve nodded and reached out, gently clapping Tony on the shoulder. “And I’m really glad you’re mine.” 

“God!” Tony exclaimed loud enough to make the other library patrons turn to look at him. “God!” He said again, only quieter. “I forgot how much you like _feelings!_ Can’t you tone it down?” 

Steve shook his head with a knowing grin. “Whatever you want.”

“Not feelings,” Tony muttered. He looked over at the sleeping guy again. There was something so sad, so _lonely_ about the way he was curled up in that chair. Tony had seen plenty of people asleep in the library, but there was something about this guy, something that Tony couldn’t quite put his finger on, that made his napping seem desperate rather than accidental. And he made Tony think of how Bucky had looked when he’d first arrived at Coulson’s place—scared and unkempt and so painfully isolated from the world. Tony swallowed. “I think we should go home this weekend. You know, see how Clint and the Buckster are doing, make sure Natasha’s practicing her pliés, say ‘hi’ to Phil....”

“You missing home?” Steve was far too perceptive as usual. 

Tony shrugged one shoulder, not taking his eyes off the sleeping guy. “I’ll text Pepper. See if she wants to come.”

“Sounds like a plan. Maybe you could invite your friend from biology class.” 

That was actually a really good idea. If the kid was having problems, or was homeless or something, Phil was the best person to help sort it all out. “I have to learn his name first.” 

“Tell everyone I say ‘hi,’ when you go.” Steve returned to his book. 

Tony’s head bobbed back. “You’re not coming?”

“Can’t.” Steve’s mouth twisted. “I have too much work.” 

“But you said that last weekend. You have to come.”

“Tony!” Steve swatted Tony’s hand where it was jabbing him under his ribs. He sighed. “Nursing is hard, okay? I have two papers due, and there're midterms”…” He scrubbed at his face. “It’s just a lot of work.” 

“But you can study at home.” 

Steve shook his head. “It’s too distracting. Natasha’ll want to talk and Clint will be all over me, and Bucky…” He grimaced.

“What about Bucky?” 

Steve dropped his gaze. “Nothing.” 

“You guys break up?”

“No! No, of course not!”

“Then what?” 

Steve remained stubbornly silent. 

“You need to come home,” Tony said. “It will break Bucky’s heart if you don’t.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Steve muttered.

“You know it will.” 

Steve shrugged without looking up. 

“Okay. You know I’m, like, the worst person in the world to be doing this with, right?”

“Doing what?”

“Making me try to figure out what’s wrong with you and the Buckster. I’m no good at this kind of stuff.” 

“I’m not making you do anything.”

“Okay, fine,” Tony huffed. “But I _am_ going to make you come home this weekend.”

“I’m not going.” Steve’s jaw thrust out. “I have too much work.” 

“That’s cool. You totally don’t have to come back just because I tell you to.” 

“I don’t?”

“Nope.” Tony grinned as he pulled out his phone. “I’m just going to text Pepper.”

Steve groaned. “You wouldn’t.”

“And send!” Tony crowed. “Your phone should be pinging right…about…now.”

Steve’s phone dinged in his pocket. He dropped his head. “Damn you, Tony.”

“Just talk to Bucky, okay? Because whatever this is, he probably doesn’t like it either.”

Steve made a non-specific move of his shoulders and then his expression turned resigned. “I guess I should text Pepper back?”

“Oh no,” Tony said. “She loves to wait.” 

Steve got out his phone.

* * *

“You’re late.”

Bruce rubbed the back of his neck. “I fell asleep.”

Wanda’s gaze immediately softened. “You work too hard.” Even though she and her brother had been in the States for three years now, her words were still coloured by the harsh edges of her Sokovian accent. 

Bruce shrugged. “It’s okay.”

“Not if you’re going to die from exhaustion,” Pietro, Wanda’s brother, piped up. He was sitting at the small table that served as both a desk and place to eat. His smile was wry. “But I think we’ve had this argument before.”

“A couple of times.” Bruce returned his smile and put his bag down by the front door. The three of them lived in a tiny bachelor apartment with a small bar fridge and a two-burner hot plate for their kitchen. Pietro and Bruce shared the double mattress that was leaning up against the wall while Wanda’s single mattress was cordoned off by a sheet carefully strung from the kitchen cabinets and nailed into the opposite wall. It was as clean as they could make it and—incredibly—vermin-free, but there was no room and no privacy, and it was still almost more than they could afford even with all their part-time jobs combined. 

But it was home, and Bruce would work himself to death if it meant the twins were safe. 

He shed his jacket and went over to Pietro. “How're you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Pietro said, and then coughed heavily. 

It was Bruce’s turn to smile wryly. “Sure sounds like it.”

“His cough is worse than yesterday,” Wanda reported. She moved to stand behind her brother and put her hand on his forehead. “He feels hot, too.”

“I’m fine!” Pietro shook her hand off. “Besides, it’s time for me to go to my job.” He stood.

Bruce bit his lip. “Maybe you should stay home tonight.” 

“Don’t.” Wanda hit his shoulder lightly. “You’ll make it bleed.” She turned to Pietro. “But Bruce’s right. You should stay home. They can find someone else to flip burgers tonight.”

“No.” Pietro shook his head even while he coughed again. “I’ve already skipped too many shifts as is it. I don’t want to get fired.”

“You broke your wrist!” Wanda exclaimed. She said something in Sokovian that made Pietro frown.

“And my boss was very understanding,” Pietro said in English, “especially as he pays me under the table and could fire me anytime. But now we have to pay off the medical bills as well as make rent. I need to go in. I have to.” He said something back to Wanda in their native language and gently squeezed her shoulder. She closed her eyes and nodded. 

“I don’t have to like it,” she said in English. 

Pietro coughed again, but waved off Wanda when she moved towards him. “I’m not too crazy about it either, but I need to go. You know I do.”

“Be careful,” Bruce said. “I’ll meet you there at 10:30 to walk you home.”

Pietro rolled his eyes. “You know I’m almost sixteen.” 

“You don’t turn sixteen until February,” Bruce reminded him. “And it makes me feel better.”

Pietro rolled his eyes again as he slipped on his coat. “Okay, dad.” He coughed. 

“At least take some medicine before you go,” Wanda said. “No one’s going to want a burger with you coughing on it.”

“I’ll be fine!” Pietro called as he went out the door. It clicked shut behind him. 

Wanda watched the closed door, her shoulders slumping. Then she visibly rallied herself and turned back to Bruce. “You should try to sleep for a couple of hours.”

Bruce started shaking his head before she’d even finished. “I slept at the library. And now I need to make up for what I _didn’t_ study while I was sleeping.” 

“But you have to get up so early for work. At least put your head down while I make dinner?” She put up a hand to stop his protest. “No, it’s fine. I’m not working tonight, and I know you don’t expect me to do this just because I’m the only girl.” Her eyes turned pleading. “Let me do something for you for once, okay?”

“Okay,” Bruce acquiesced. “But I really need to study.” Wanda stuck out her bottom lip but didn’t argue further and Bruce sighed in relief. He worked mornings at a café by the university six days a week. The small shop was run by a radical hippie who preferred to pay her staff under the table as a way to get back at ‘the Man,’ and it was very popular among those students who loathed all things corporate. Little did they know that the guy making their coffee had been at work since five getting it ready for them, and the tips from their five-dollar conflict-free rainforest-protecting organic beverage was barely enough for him to get by. 

Keeping their heads above water was a tough go. Bruce was up early and then up late, since he always met Pietro or Wanda after their evening shifts for their jobs to make sure they were safe getting home. The twins worked alternate nights so that they had time to both sleep and study. They were in sophomore year together, and so far their grades had been good enough that no one had questioned their home life, or why their guardian never showed up for parent-teacher interviews. Both twins had offered to work more so Bruce could work less, but Bruce wouldn’t let that happen. They were in this mess because of him, and he’d do anything to make sure they eventually got out of it. 

He pulled out his biology textbook from his bag and took over Pietro’s seat at the table. He opened his textbook, but didn’t look at it, instead he watched Wanda as she started cutting up some vegetables, humming softly to herself as she worked. 

_You’ve done so much for me already,_ Bruce thought to himself as he watched her. She didn’t know it, but she and Pietro had given Bruce a reason to carry on living, even after the way he’d ruined everything for all of them. Taking care of Wanda and Pietro was the only good thing he’d ever done in his life, and without them… 

He shook his head to clear it of those dark thoughts and turned back to his textbook. 

“Spicy okay?” Wanda asked as she added the vegetables to a pot on the hotplate. “I feel like Indian.” 

Bruce smiled at her, “Sounds perfect.”

* * *

Steve steeled himself before he dialed the number on Skype. 

He heard the distinctive sound of it ringing at the farm, and then Bucky’s face came into view. As always Steve was immediately taken by the beauty of the other boy: the perfect symmetry of his wide cheekbones and the deep grey of his eyes. He had a mouth that was pink and lush and was made for kissing, but right now Bucky wasn’t even smiling. 

Steve cleared his throat. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Bucky’s expression was as closed and wary as Steve had ever seen it. His heart seized in his chest. He knew something had happened between them since he’d left for university, but he didn’t have a clue what. All he knew is that Bucky was barely talking to him, and it hurt like hell. 

“So, uh, how are things?” Steve winced inwardly at the false cheer in his voice. “Good?”

“Fine.” Bucky wouldn’t make eye contact, and Steve was painfully reminded of those early weeks when Bucky first arrived on the farm. When he was imprisoned in a silent cage of his own making and terrified of interacting with others. 

“How are your classes going?” Steve tried. “Is Ms. Carter making you read George Orwell?”

“Margaret Atwood,” Bucky said. He was staring at the floor. “Not that you care.”

Steve flinched. “Bucky—”

“You studying again this weekend?” Bucky rubbed the stump of his left arm, his eyes still carefully away from Steve’s.

“No, actually. This weekend I’m coming home.” 

Bucky’s eyes flew to his, wide with surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Steve felt a crushing sense of relief that Bucky was finally looking at him. “I kinda had someone I wanted to see.” He was suddenly very glad he’d let Tony talk him into it.

A small smile pulled at Bucky’s lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s really good looking and can ride a horse like nobody’s business. Maybe you know him?”

Bucky was really smiling now. “Can’t say I’ve heard of him.”

“Oh yeah, he’s great,” Steve continued their game. “Smart, funny, an excellent kisser…”

“He sounds awesome.” Bucky grinned, but then it faded. “Not sure why you’d want to leave a guy like that.” 

Steve’s relief was replaced by confusion. “I don’t understand.”

Bucky looked like he was about to answer when Clint suddenly bounded into the frame. “Steve! Natasha said Pepper said you’re coming back!”

“Just for the weekend.” Steve focussed his attention back to Bucky. “But Bucky and I were just talking—”

“It’s okay.” And once again Bucky wouldn’t meet Steve’s eyes.

“I totally miss you!” Clint was still beaming. “It’ll be _great_ to have you back!”

“It’s just for the weekend,” Steve repeated. “I need to go back on Monday. For school.” 

Clint’s face fell. “But I thought….” He turned to look at Bucky.

Bucky stood. “I gotta go do some homework. Bye, Steve.”

“Shit! Homework!” Clint said to Bucky. “How many chapters did Ms. Carter assign?” He turned to leave the room and then turned back to the screen. “Oh! Bye, Steve! See you on Friday. I’m really looking forward to it.”

“Me, too.” Steve gave a half-wave as the screen went dark. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I think Bucky wants to break up with me,” Steve murmured. He didn’t move for a long time.

* * *

“Can’t I just skip class?” Tony whined.

Pepper laughed and leaned in to peck him on the cheek. “I think you know the answer to that.”

They were in the courtyard in front of the grand science building. It was one of the oldest buildings on campus, dating back to the middle of the 1800s. Because of its age it looked stately and exactly like Pepper had expected a university campus to look. It almost made Pepper want to take a science course just to get the chance to walk through its stone hallways on a regular basis.

Tony let his head drop onto her shoulder. “I hate biology.” 

“No you don’t.” Pepper ruffled the hair on the back of his head and then gently shoved him off. “You love biology.”

“I hate it. All that wet, gooey stuff…” He shuddered dramatically. 

Pepper laughed again. “You like gooey stuff.” 

“I like your gooey stuff.” Tony waggled his eyebrows as he grasped her waist. “Now _that_ I’d be happy to study, anytime.”

Pepper returned his suggestive smile. “Your class ends at five-twenty. I could meet you back here, walk you back to your private room?”

“We could just go now.” Tony’s breath was gentle against her ear and she shivered. He slid his hand up her side, his thumb resting just underneath the curve of her breast and started dotting her neck with soft, open-mouth kisses.

She let her head drop back, beginning to lose herself in the sensation. Neither she nor Tony had been virgins when they’d started dating, but Tony’s experience was legendary and Pepper couldn’t say she minded when she was the recipient of all his talent. She put her palms on his shoulders, intending to stop him, but just rested her hands there instead. 

He sighed against her skin and pulled away, closing his eyes in mock despair. “All I want to do is drag you back to my dorm, but I know that biology is calling. Cruel, demanding mistress that she is.”

“That’s very mature of you.” Pepper stroked his face. “I promise I’ll meet you after.” 

“Ugh. I can’t believe I’m choosing class over you!” Tony sighed again. “Please know this is only because midterms are coming up and in no way reflects my deep, undying appreciation for everything Pepper.”

Pepper couldn’t help but giggle at his absurd statement. She smiled into his eyes, letting all the love she felt for him shine through. 

He swallowed. “Stop that. Or I really will drag you off.”

“I will meet you back here at five-twenty. I promise.”

“And I will hold you to that.” He squeezed her hand. “Don’t you have class now, too? Something about the hostile takeover of the planet?”

“International business, you mean?” Pepper arched an eyebrow. “Yes, in fact.” She checked her watch. “And if I walk fast enough to go back in time, I might actually get there before it starts.”

“Go!” Tony shoved gently at her shoulder. “Go fight the good fight for our economic freedom!”

Pepper laughed at him over her shoulder as she started her dash to the social science quadrant of campus. She was three-quarters of the way there when her phone vibrated. She managed to fish it out of her bag without slowing down.

It was a text from Tony. **I love you, Ms. Potts.**

Pepper’s heart melted and she stopped walking. **I love you too, Mr. Stark.**

She was late to class in the end, but she couldn’t even care.

* * *

Bruce was rereading his notes from last week’s biology lecture when something moved into his peripheral vision. He started, looking up sharply.

“Yo,” the guy said, moving the bag that Bruce had put on the chair and sliding into the seat. “Mind if I sit?”

“Would it matter if I did?” Bruce said pointedly. He’d put his bag there for a reason.

“Not really.” The guy grinned at him, showing a mouthful of even, white teeth. “I tend to do what I want.”

“Well, I _tend_ to like my space.” Bruce glared at him. “So if you don’t mind—”

“I don’t mind.” The guy shifted so that he was facing Bruce and obviously checked out what Bruce was looking at. “Hey, are those from last week?”

“These are _my_ notes from last week, yes.” Bruce moved so they were more hidden from the guy’s prying eyes. “I’m reviewing for the lecture.” The guy was pinging Bruce’s memory. He knew he’d seen him before, but he wasn’t sure where, and if class was the only place. _What if you knew him from before?_ The overly-cautious voice inside his head asked him. 

“Cool,” the guy stretched out his legs, casually bumping Bruce’s ankle with the toe of what looked like a really expensive sneaker. He leaned his elbow on the corner of the tiny flip-out desk. “So,” he said with a casual drawl that Bruce didn’t buy for a second, “what’s your name?”

Bruce’s brain stalled a second before his heart began to pound painfully in his chest. His identity had been a well-guarded secret for three years. He had no idea why this guy would be asking that—unless someone had sent him to track Bruce down? “What?”

“I don’t believe it! Tell me your parents did _not_ call you that.”

“Why’d you want to know my name?” Bruce hoped he didn’t sound as afraid as he felt. His heart was still hammering, and he was seriously debating whether or not he should just bolt. But biology was his favourite class and even though he wasn’t officially registered, midterms were coming up. He’d never get credit for all the work he did, but it was his own fault. He just considered himself lucky to be able to sneak in to learn at all, really. He didn’t want to leave.

The guy blinked. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you don’t know me!” Bruce hissed. He _hoped_ the guy didn’t know him, because that would mean all kinds of terrible things. His thoughts immediately went to the twins and what might happen to them if Bruce was caught. He’d have to warn them somehow, but they didn’t have a phone, not even a land-line because they were so expensive. His eyes flew to the exit. He’d arrived early to class in order to get his favourite seat in the middle of the hall and right at the end of the row, so no one would sit beside him. But the rest of the students were piling in and he didn’t want to make a scene by leaving now. The university didn’t know he existed and he needed to keep it that way. 

“How am I meant to get to know you if I don’t know your name?” The guy asked, and Bruce had to admit it was a fair question. But it didn’t make this non-conversation any less terrifying. 

“Why do you want to get to know me?” Bruce could hear the note of panic in his voice. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” the other boy repeated.

They stared at each other. Bruce took in the guy’s thick, curly dark brown hair and his deep brown eyes. Even the shape of his mouth looked familiar.

“I know you,” Bruce said after far too long of unblinking observation. “I _know_ I know you. Where do I know you from?” 

The guy’s grin was totally smug. “I’m Tony Stark.”

Bruce’s eyes went wide as everything clicked into place. The guy looked familiar because he was _famous_. “Holy shit.”

“I know, right?”

Bruce’s heart was pounding, but now for a totally different reason. He’d always been a fan of Stark’s work since he’d first read about his research into active versus passive learning potential in artificial intelligence. 

But the twins despised him.

It had been Stark Industries bombs that had blown their family’s apartment to smithereens when the twins were barely ten years old. Bruce had never heard the whole story of what happened, but he knew that Stark was indirectly responsible for the death of the twins’ parents, and their death had been brutal. Wanda and Pietro had ended up abandoned in a refugee camp just across the border in Latveria. It taken them almost two years before they’d eventually been sponsored by a missionary organization to go to the states. And then they’d ended up in foster care, and then Bruce had met them. 

And who knew if their lives were better or worse because of it?

“I loved your work on naturalistic rhythms for synthesized speech! And your descriptions of probability algorithms….” Bruce said finally. He winced internally, feeling that his fanboying was probably betraying Wanda and Pietro, but _Tony Stark!_ Maybe he didn’t have to tell them. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, right?

“You read that stuff?” 

Bruce wasn’t sure if Tony sounded pleased or embarrassed. “Well, yeah.” He shrugged. “I’m interested in that kind of thing.” 

“Who isn’t?” Tony said flippantly, but then he eyed Bruce almost shyly. “What part?”

“That I’m interested in? Well, probably how you differentiated between active and passive learning potentials in A.I.s. I think that has great potential for cybernetics. You know, helping the prosthetic actually—”

“—Learn from the twitches of the muscle fibres!” Tony cut in. He was smiling hard enough to crack his face. “OMG, that idea is the whole reason why I’m taking this class!”

“You’re interested in prosthetics?”

“Absolutely! One of my brothers—”

The girl in the row ahead turned and shushed Tony, gesturing pointedly at the front of the class where the prof had introduced that afternoon’s topic. Bruce was disappointed that he wouldn’t get to talk to _Tony Stark_ about his research until after the lecture was over.

Tony slid him a note. 

_Come to my place after class? We can discuss._

Bruce bit his lip. He’d love nothing better than to hang with Tony Stark and talk about research, but Pietro and Wanda needed him. And if he felt bad just talking to Tony, going to his place would be crossing a huge line. _Can’t,_ he wrote. _I have to go home._

_NP,_ Tony added. _I’ll go with._

Bruce bit down hard enough on the inside of his lip that he broke the scab and tasted blood. _Sorry. Can’t,_ he wrote. There was no way he could bring Tony home. Not only would Wanda and Pietro never forgive him, but If Tony saw how he and the twins lived, he’d tell the school administration or call Child Protective Services or alert the police, and then the twins would be taken away. They wouldn’t be safe anymore. They wouldn’t be a _family._ Bruce would lose everything. 

_**No,**_ Bruce wrote. 

Tony shot him a look. _Okay. So third option. Come to my other brother’s place. We’ll have pizza. It’ll be fun._

Bruce shook his head and underlined what he’d written before about needing to go home.

_Okay,_ Tony wrote again, and this time added a sad-face emoticon. _Tomorrow?_

Bruce sighed. He knew he should just say ‘no,’ there was nothing about tomorrow that would change anything. But the idea of outright refusing _Tony Stark_ was just plain wrong. He still couldn’t believe that Tony even wanted to talk to him at all. _Let’s discuss later,_ he wrote. He knew it was a dodge, but regardless of the risks of Tony somehow discovering how he was living, or how much the twins would hate him, he just didn’t want to say no. 

_Give me your number._

Bruce bit his lip again. _I don’t have a phone._

Tony’s expression would’ve been funny if it hadn’t been directed solely at Bruce. _WTF??? You a hippie?_

Bruce’s mouth quirked up at the corner. He wished it was that simple. _Just poor._

“Huh,” Tony muttered. “We’ll talk after class.” He turned his focus on the lecture, but kept glancing at Bruce out of the corner of his eye, like he couldn’t wrap his head around what Bruce had told him.

Bruce also turned his attention forward, pen at the ready to take notes, totally aware that his concentration was shot and he wasn’t hearing a damn thing.

Tony Stark had invited him over to his place. Tony Stark wanted to talk to him after class. Tony Stark had offered him pizza and a conversation about artificial intelligence and cybernetic technology and its application in the real world.

Bruce didn’t know if he should laugh or cry, but he knew for sure that he couldn’t take Tony up on his offer. 

Fifteen minutes before the end of class, just when Tony had finally focussed all of his attention towards the lecture, Bruce slipped out. 

_It’s better this way,_ he thought. He just wished he could believe it.

* * *

“And then I turned around, and the fucker had left!” Tony said as he and Pepper were walking arm-in-arm along the well-worn path that led from the Science Quad. “Burns my ass.”

Pepper squeezed his arm sympathetically. “He did say he had to get home.”

Tony slid her a look. “He left fifteen minutes before class ended. And before you say ‘he probably got an urgent text,’ dude doesn’t have a phone.”

Pepper turned towards him, eyes wide. “Why on earth not?”

“He said he was poor. Well, wrote it actually. We were writing notes in class because this girl—”

“—woman,” Pepper corrected him automatically.

“Woman,” Tony repeated, “in front of us was having _issues._ But anyway, he wrote me that he didn’t have a phone because he was poor.” Tony made a face. “What does he mean, ‘poor?’ Is that even a word nowadays?”

“Yes, Tony, it is.” Pepper’s tone was full of patience. “And ‘poor’ means ‘having no money,’ which I know you know what that means—at least theoretically.” Her expression turned thoughtful. “I don’t think he was lying.”

“I know what ‘poor’ means,” Tony groused. “I just thought that people used words like ‘lower socioeconomic status’ or something.” He remembered the rest of Pepper’s statement. “And why would he lie about something like that?”

They crossed from the path onto the paved courtyard that connected it to the Medical Science building. Tony always thought that the sterile and clinical area around the building had somehow been designed with the interior of hospitals in mind. 

“That’s my point,” Pepper said. “There’re easier excuses for not having a phone. And a cell phone is practically a necessity nowadays. I wonder how he functions without it?”

Tony shuddered. “Even that idea is a nightmare. Never speak of it again. Oh look.” he pointed. “It’s my ersatz sibling.”

“You know the word ‘ersatz’ but not ‘poor?’” Pepper shook her head with a laugh. 

Steve was standing in the middle of the courtyard, staring at his phone. 

“That does not look good,” Tony murmured. 

“Steve?” Pepper said softly as they went over to him. “Everything okay?”

Steve startled as if he hadn’t realized they were there. He swallowed once, and then again, as if there was something stuck in his throat. “Hi Pepper,” he said finally.

“Hey there,” Tony said when Steve kept swallowing and blinking without saying anything else. He was clutching the phone like he didn’t know if he should hug it or throw it away. 

“Steve, what's wrong?” Pepper repeated. 

“I….” Steve shook his head. His eyes had a suspicious sheen to them and they were lined with red. 

Tony blinked. “Are you crying?”

Steve swallowed again, a hard constriction of his throat. He shook his head. “No.” 

“Totally convincing, really.” 

“Leave him alone,” Pepper scolded. “Can’t you see he’s upset?”

“Thus the crying question.” 

“What’s wrong?” Pepper asked Steve again, glancing between his phone and his face. “Did someone text you something?”

“Yeah,” Steve choked out. “Bucky…” He swallowed.

Tony's heart jolted. It wasn’t too long ago that Steve had taken a tumble off his horse during a hailstorm and broken his collarbone. If Bucky hadn’t been with him, he would’ve frozen to death. Bad things could happen out in the country very quickly and the way Steve looked, it seemed like something already had. “Is he okay?” 

Steve blinked. “Uh.”

The tension was too much. Tony scooped the phone out of Steve’s hands, automatically dancing away a few steps in case Steve went after him. 

Steve didn’t even protest, which was almost as frightening as not knowing what was going on. Things must be really bad for Steve not to react. Quickly Tony scanned Steve’s texts. He looked up. 

“Bucky says he’s going to go to stay on the farm and go to college in town with Clint. He wants to study engineering science.” 

“That sounds perfect for him.” Pepper smiled. “He’s really good with his hands.” Her cheeks pinked. “Well, okay, hand I guess. But that really would be perfect for him.”

Steve still looked like someone had run over his dog. 

“What’s wrong with going to college? Is there something wrong with Bucky not wanting to go to university?” Tony’d grown up with the high expectations of his father and his father’s man-at-arms, Obadiah Stane. Howard hadn’t spoken much to his son when Tony was growing up. Hadn’t paid him much attention at all, really. But one thing that he’d managed to communicate loud and clear was the fact that Tony was going to university, no matter what. Even though Tony had always been keen on higher education, it still rankled that he wouldn’t have had a choice to become a carpenter, or a bus driver. It was engineer or nothing. He didn’t want Steve to have that kind of attitude.

Pepper studied Steve. “I don’t think that’s it,” she said slowly. Steve was looking somewhere out towards the Medical Science building, his eyes still red-rimmed and his jaw working. Pepper put her hand on his shoulder. “You were expecting Bucky to come here next year.”

Steve still didn’t look at her. “Yeah.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“So this isn’t about Bucky not going to university?” Tony asked. “Then what’s it about?” he said after several moments of Pepper looking sympathetic and Steve looking wrecked hadn’t given him any answers. 

“Bucky’s not coming,” Pepper said simply. “He’s not coming to New York any more. He won’t be with Steve.”

“Oh,” Tony said quietly, and then, “Oh shit.” He turned to Steve with a wince. “I’m really sorry, buddy.” 

“We’re not breaking up!” Steve snatched his phone back.

“I didn’t say that.” Tony looked at Pepper. “Did I say that?”

“No, you didn’t say that,” Pepper reassured him. She turned to Steve. “Are you going to talk to Bucky about this?”

“I kind of have to, don’t I?” Steve huffed out something not even close to a laugh. “I mean, he told me by text message!”

“That’s a horrible way to break up with someone,” Tony said, and then immediately raised his hands in surrender when both Pepper and Steve whirled on him. “Sorry! I just meant in general.” 

“No,” Steve said down to his phone. “No. I will not let it end like this. I won’t.”

“Good. I’m really glad you’re going to talk to him, Steve. You need to find out what’s going on in that funny head of his,” Pepper said. 

“Yeah,” Tony agreed. “We’ll go now. I’ll get my car from the garage. We can be back home by eight. Nine at the latest.”

“No. Thanks, but not now. I need—” Steve’s voice cracked and he wiped at his face. 

“That’s a good idea, Steve,” Pepper said as if Steve’d actually said anything intelligible. “Give it a couple of days for you to think about what you want to say. It’s already Tuesday. The weekend will come soon enough, and we’ll all head down together.”

“Okay.” Steve’s attempt at a smile was heartbreaking. “This weekend. Yeah.”

“Can we walk you back?” Pepper gently guided Steve until the three of them were heading towards their dorm. “Tony was talking about ordering a pizza before and maybe watching a movie. I’m hungry and too tired to study. What do you think?”

Tony _had_ mentioned it before, but to the guy in his biology class, not to Pepper. But trust Pepper to know the right thing to do. Steve probably didn’t want to be alone right now, not with the despair of the potential end of his relationship with Bucky playing through his mind like a terrifying soap opera. But Steve would never ask for them to stay with him, so Pepper was making sure he didn’t have to.

“Okay, I guess.” Steve sighed.

“Oh thank goodness. I was worried I’d have to cook!” Pepper smiled warmly at Steve as if his agreement had just saved her from a terrible situation. “Is Hawaiian okay?”

That was Steve’s favourite pizza. The freak. Pepper was really working all the angles to make it look like caring for him was actually helping her out. 

“Yeah.” Steve nodded. They had reached their dormitory and Tony held the door while Pepper led Steve inside. 

“You’re awesome,” he whispered to her as she passed.

She smiled in recognition of his compliment as they headed to the elevators. Tony had snagged the three of them rooms on the top floor in the same apartment. The rooms connected to a small mutual kitchen/living room combination, and they all shared the same bathroom. It wasn’t much different from the farm, actually, except that while their dorm rooms were bigger than the ones on the lower floor of the building, they were smaller than what Steve and Tony had back home. But they didn’t have to share and the view wasn’t bad. They were more expensive than the shared rooms on the lower floor, but if Steve didn’t know that Tony had supplemented his scholarship a little so he could have one of them, well that was probably okay. 

He just wished that Bucky would actually be joining them next September in the room that Tony had reserved for him. 

_I really hope Steve and Bucky don’t break up,_ Tony thought as they went out of the elevators and down the hall. The reality of what their breakup would mean to the family was just beginning to sink in. It would mean alliances and divisions among the other siblings, even if they didn’t want it to. Natasha adored Steve and would choose him over Bucky. Clint and Bucky had bonded since Bucky had started to talk and now they were total BFFs. Hell, it would make Tony’s life difficult. He loved Steve like a brother, but he loved Bucky, too. It would be horrible for everyone if they broke up. Tony shivered as they entered their communal living space. He didn’t even want to think about it.

* * *

It took Steve forever to fall asleep that night. 

He felt exhausted just from reading Bucky’s text. He’d received it right at the end of class and he’d read it as he’d stepped out of the Medical Science building. 

It’d made him stop in his tracks, like his brain had just shut down. He’d had no idea how long he was standing there before Tony and Pepper had found him. 

Bucky had only been in his life for a short while. Hell before February, Steve hadn’t even known Bucky existed. But now he couldn’t possibly imagine his life without him. He was in love with Bucky. They might not have said it yet, but it was as true as the air in his lungs and the blood flowing through his veins. Maybe more true. Steve wasn’t sure he’d actually be able to survive without him. 

He finally fell asleep well after midnight, his exhaustion overcoming the desperation of his thoughts. But sleep wasn’t the release he'd hoped for.

He dreamt he was back in the hospital during those awful final days with his mother. 

He could feel her paper-thin hand in his, hear the raspy ineffectiveness of her breathing. “Don’t leave me.” There were tears running down his cheeks as he begged her not to die.

She smiled at him. The same sad, sweet smile he remembered. “But I don’t love you enough. No one loves you enough not to leave you. No one loves you,” she repeated. “That’s why I gave you away.” 

“That’s not true!” He tried to wrench his wrist free of her grasp. Instead of the strong body he’d had since he was fourteen, he was back to the small, skinny and sickly boy he’d been until his heart was fixed when he was twelve. He was too weak to fight her. His breathing was ragged, like he was going to have another asthma attack. The hospital room had changed to a barren white space. The only thing in it his mother’s hospital bed and him.

“It’s true,” she cackled. “I was waiting my whole life to get rid of you!”

“No!” He tried to free his wrist but it was like he was being led by a steel chain. 

“If you don’t believe me, ask him.” She pointed to somewhere behind him.

Steve turned to see Bucky standing a few feet behind him, and suddenly his mother was gone. Instead he was in the bedroom at the farm that he and Bucky shared before they started their relationship. 

Bucky looked exactly like he had when Steve left for university, standing tall and strong and confident. So different from the scared young man that Phil had first brought home. 

“Bucky?” Steve breathed. 

“Your mom’s right,” Bucky said. “No one loves you.”

“That’s not true. None of this is true.”

“Whatever,” Bucky sneered. The floor of the bedroom disappeared, changing instead to the road where Clint and Bucky had just avoided being killed the winter before. Bucky and Steve were standing right over the white line. The road stretched out to infinity in either direction. 

“Bucky!” Steve reached for him. “Get off the road!”

“It doesn’t matter. Because I have to leave you. It’s just the way you’re made. It doesn’t matter that you had surgery or what you look like now. You're still sick. All the way down.”

“No. No, Bucky, don’t say that.” There was a rumbling somewhere off in the distance, accompanied by a small vibration Steve could feel through his feet. 

“It’s the way you’re made. The way you are.”

“Bucky…” Steve whimpered.

“I don’t want to be with you. No one does.” The vibration got louder, and suddenly a red truck appeared behind Bucky, like it’d just crested a non-existent hill. “No one loves you.” 

Steve lunged for him, trying to pull him out of the way, but his hand only brushed air where Bucky’s left arm should’ve been. 

And then the truck hit Bucky and Steve cried out as he woke, tears drying against his cheeks.

He slumped forward on his bed, face in his hands. _No one loves you,_ echoing in his head. It wasn’t true. He _knew_ it wasn’t true. 

But Bucky wasn’t coming to be with him in New York. Bucky was barely speaking to him. 

And it hurt so badly.

“I can’t do this,” Steve murmured. “I just can’t.”

He stayed sitting like that for a long time.

* * *

“Here,” Bruce said softly as he handed the younger man a glass of water. He’d wanted to make Pietro some tea but the kettle was old and whistled like a train when it boiled. Somehow Wanda had stayed asleep through her brother’s coughing and he wanted to keep it that way. 

If the medicine didn’t help, he’d boil some water the old fashioned way, in a pot. 

“Thanks,” Pietro murmured. He took the offered glass and put the medicine pill in his mouth, swallowing it before he immediately dissolved into another coughing fit. He swore in Sokovian under his breath. 

Bruce frowned. Pietro’s cough sounded thick and wet. “I think we need to take you to a doctor.”

“No.” Pietro shook his head even as he coughed again. “Too expensive.”

“You’re worth it. And besides, no one’s come after us for the money for your broken wrist. Maybe we’re on a list of non-insured people and they’re not going to look for payment.”

“Or maybe the cops will come through our door and arrest you for murder now that the hospital has our address. It’s not worth the risk. I’ll be fine.” He coughed again.

“I used our fake names and didn’t give them our address.” Bruce frowned as Pietro kept coughing. “You sound awful.” He put his hand on Pietro’s forehead, feeling the too-warm skin under his palm. “I think you have a fever.”

Pietro shook off his hand. “I just took medicine. I’ll be fine.”

Bruce sighed and sat back down on his side of the double mattress that rested on the floor. He took his pillow and, after getting Pietro to sit up, added it to the one Pietro already had. “You’ll cough less if your head’s elevated.”

“You don’t have a pillow now.” 

“I’ll sleep on my arm.” Bruce lay down on his side to illustrate.

Pietro’s expression was skeptical. “Looks comfortable.”

“It’s fine.”

Pietro rolled his eyes. “At least go back to sleep. It’s after midnight and you have to get up so early in the morning.” 

“I’ll sleep when you sleep.” 

“I’m fine!” Pietro said, then glanced at the hanging sheet separating Wanda’s bed from their half of the room. 

“Not so loud,” Bruce whispered. 

Pietro opened his mouth to reply, but coughed instead. He sagged back against the pillows when he was done. “God. This sucks.”

“Want some tea? I’ll put lemon in it.”

Pietro shook his head. “Just keep me company, okay? I mean, if you’re not sleeping anyway.”

Bruce felt a wave of affection for his adopted brother. “I can do that.”

“So, how was class?” Pietro said as he settled into the pillows. He turned so that he was facing Bruce, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes. Pietro had decided to dye his hair blue several months ago. He'd used a cheap die and hydrogen peroxide from the drugstore, which had made his hair a very pale blue that had eventually faded to a dirty greyish-white. It made him look older than his fifteen years and Wanda hated it, which meant that Pietro thought it was great. 

“Class was….” Bruce paused, thinking of Tony and leaving early to avoid him. 

“Good?” Pietro prompted, “Bad? Stupid? Boring?” He started coughing on the last word. 

Bruce helped him sit up. “Good.” He lifted Pietro’s tee-shirt and spread some vapour rub on his back. It was one of the medicines he’d bought for Pietro when it became apparent that his brother’s illness wasn’t going to be short-lived. He’d had to skip lunch all week to make up for the cost, but the coffee shop where he worked always had day-olds lying around and his manager was very nice about turning a blind eye. 

“Don’t! I hate that smell.”

“It’ll help your coughing.” Bruce wiped the excess from his fingers on Pietro’s shirt and lowered it again. 

“Ugh.” Pietro wrinkled his nose. “I smell like the refugee camp. I _really_ hate that smell.” 

Bruce knew that Pietro meant the camp that he and his sister had stayed in after they’d managed to get out of Sokovia during their civil war. Once they’d all learned they could trust each other, Wanda had told Bruce that the camp had been sprayed frequently with a harsh-smelling disinfectant to try to prevent the refugees spreading illness to one another. It was only one of several stories she’d told Bruce about their time there. It was one of the easier ones to hear. 

“I’m sorry,” Bruce said softly. He put his hand on Pietro’s forearm, squeezing gently. “You’re in our apartment now. In New York. You’re not over there anymore.”

“I know. I’m not having a flashback. I just hate that smell.” Pietro frowned as he got himself comfortable again. “I don't want to talk about the camp. Tell me about your class.”

“Oh, right. Um. It was good?”

“What made it good?”

For a split second Bruce thought about lying to Pietro and telling him that class was good because of the sterling quality of the lecture, but immediately dismissed it. He loved Pietro and Wanda, and all of them had been betrayed too many times in their lives to ever make it okay for Bruce to lie to them. He took a breath. “I met someone.”

Pietro’s grin was very white in the low light. “ _Really!_ “

Bruce rolled his eyes. “Yes, really.”

“Is she cute?” Pietro turned onto his side so he was facing Bruce. “Rich? It’d be great if she was rich. Does she have a sister who’s into high school boys?”

Bruce laughed as he shook his head. “None of the above. It’s a he, actually.” 

“Oh.” Pietro paused, then; “is _he_ cute? Rich? Does he have a sister?”

Bruce laughed again, but then chewed on his bottom lip. “Yes and yes,” he responded honestly. “I don’t know if he has a sister.”

Pietro raised himself up on one elbow, curiosity clearly piqued. “Did he like you? Did you like _him?_ Are you going to date?”

“It’s not like that.” Bruce winced. “It’s complicated?”

Pietro blinked, clearly reading something in Bruce’s expression. His next words were said with obvious trepidation. “Who did you meet?”

Bruce’s wince deepened. “Tony Stark.”

“You’re shitting me.” Pietro’s voice was flat.

“No. I was sitting in class, and this guy comes and sits beside me. And I look up and it’s Tony Stark, in my first year biology course!” Bruce became more animated as he remembered his excitement. 

“Tony Stark.” Pietro’s voice hadn’t changed.

Bruce rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. “Yeah. He seemed nice.”

“The Starks killed my parents.”

Bruce put his hand on Pietro’s forearm. “I know you think they did—”

“Who do you think made the bombs that the rebels used to kill their own people?” Pietro hissed. “Whose name was on the tanks that flattened the city? Whose fucking logo was on the fucking rifles?” Pietro collapsed into another fit of coughing, harsh and deep with the awful sound of phlegm rattling in his lungs. 

“Here.” Bruce yanked off a wad from the roll of toilet paper he’d moved to the side of the mattress. Pietro nodded in thanks and then coughed up a glob of phlegm into the paper. 

He exhaled roughly and sagged back down onto the pillows. “Fuck.”

Bruce gingerly took the tissue from Pietro and put it into a plastic bag he’d left beside their bed. “Better?”

“There’s less shit in my chest,” Pietro agreed. But then he glared at Bruce. “You can’t be friends with a Stark.”

Bruce took a deep breath. “He didn’t kill your parents, Pietro.”

Pietro sat up. “It’s his company. His ideas, his weapons, his employees stamping _Stark_ all over everything!” He shook his head vehemently. “He did kill them. In everything but name. He killed them.”

“He’s only seventeen,” Bruce tried again. He knew Tony’s age because they’d been born eight months apart and the newspapers always reported on Tony Stark’s birthday. “He was only twelve when the Uprising happened. It may have been his company but it wasn’t him.” 

“Stop!” Pietro spat. “Just stop! You know how I feel about Starks! How we both feel! We were trapped under our bed with a _Stark bomb_ inches from our face for two days! Our parent’s mutilated bodies rotting in the next room—” Pietro turned his face away from Bruce as he fought to get his emotions under control.

“I—I didn’t know that.” Bruce had never heard any details of how the twins’ parents had died. He chewed on his bottom lip, tasting blood.

“We knew the rebel forces were moving on the Capital,” Pietro continued, still facing away from Bruce. “But my father assured us that they’d just be consolidating their power, ensuring that the government officials had time to flee before the rebels took over running the country.” He smirked, with no humour in it. “My father was excited, actually. He’d always felt that the post-communist government was no better than the Russians had been. Didn’t matter in the end. He was killed anyway.”

“Why?” Bruce said into the silence between them.

“Why the bombs? The government decided that they didn’t want to just hand over power to the rebels. So they let the rebels march into the city and then fired on them. Our apartment building was merely in the way.”

“I’m so sorry.” 

Pietro shrugged, but his shoulders were tight with tension. “The shell hit with no warning. Right through the wall and into our kitchen. Our parents were there, talking quietly after diner. The only reason why Wanda and I weren’t killed as well was because we’d been excused to go do our homework. When the bomb hit I went out to look, and I saw…They were—” 

Bruce put his arm around his brother’s shoulders and pulled him against his chest, holding him tightly. 

“Wanda was right behind me, and it was her who pulled me away and made me hide with her under the bed. The next shell landed right on top of it, smashing the bed into the wall. But it didn’t explode.” He rested his head against Bruce’s shoulder, and Bruce could feel small tremors rippling through his frame. “ _Stark Industries._. For two days that’s all I could look at. _Stark Industries._ “ 

“I’m sorry,” Bruce said again. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

Pietro looked at Bruce. “You can’t be friends with him. I don’t think I could stand for my brother to be friends with the man who killed my parents.”

“Okay,” Bruce said. “I won’t.”

“Promise me!” Pietro made a fist in Bruce’s shirt.

“I promise,” Bruce said immediately. 

Pietro let out a breath of relief. “Thank you.”

“Do you think you can sleep now?” Bruce asked, helping Pietro lie back down.

“Probably.” Pietro’s smile was tinged with sadness. “I’ve never told anyone that story before.”

“I’m glad you told me.” Bruce patted his shoulder. “Now go to sleep.”

“Medicine’s kicked in.” Pietro closed his eyes. “No more coughing.” 

“No more coughing.” Bruce settled down beside Pietro, listening as his breathing evened out into sleep. 

It was horrific to hear what had happened to make Pietro hate Tony Stark so much. Bruce couldn’t blame him for feeling that way. He hated his father after all, for very similar reasons. 

But it was a little sad that his love and loyalty for the twins meant that his friendship with Tony Stark had to end before it really began. 

Bruce sighed and closed his eyes. It was probably for the best, though. He and Tony existed in worlds so far apart as to barely be on the same planet. They’d never truly be friends, even under the best of circumstances. 

And Bruce’s actions had ensured their circumstances were about as bad as they could get. It was his fault they were living like this. Not befriending Tony Stark was minor compared to what he’d asked of the twins. Fair was fair. 

He fell asleep thinking of a younger version of Wanda and Pietro, green eyes wide with grief and fear, staring at a bomb labelled _Stark Industries_ , thinking any second they were going to die.

* * *

It had been a disappointing lecture. 

Tony had arrived early for biology, specifically so that he could find that guy and sit with him, but guy wasn’t there. 

Grumbling to himself, Tony took a seat where Guy had sat last time and resigned himself to wait. It turned out to be a bit easier than he thought because the bio lecture wasn’t actually horrible, although he’d understood the main concepts about twelve minutes in and then had to stop himself from sporking his eye out for the next 63. 

He kept craning his neck to try to find Guy, but except for a few people giving him the stink eye for moving around, he didn’t get much.

Finally, class ended. Tony jumped up like the seat had jabbed him with something pointy and he sprinted up the shallow lecture hall stairs to the exit. There were three large doors at the back, one for each end and one in the middle, just like a real theatre. Tony knew he wouldn’t be able to cover all the doors, but he figured if he kept turning his head quickly he might see the guy before he took off. 

Tony didn’t really know why making friends with him mattered so much. Normally if someone ran out on him fifteen minutes before they were scheduled to meet, Tony would forget all about them and totally go on with his life. But there was something about this guy, something about his shaggy hair and his beat-up clothes and the way he slept in the library and could discuss artificial intelligence that made Tony want to add him to his circle. 

He was even keen to take the guy home to meet the fam, and they weren’t even dating. 

The students were slowly making their way up the steps. Tony stood on his tiptoes to try to see through the unwashed horde to one unwashed person in particular. 

People shoved by him but Tony stood his ground, practically blocking the main exit. 

“Who are we looking for?” 

Tony glanced to his side before turning his attention back to the main theatre. It had thinned out considerably and Tony was getting concerned that he’d missed his window. “The guy I was telling you about,” he said to Pepper. 

“Okay.” She stood on her tiptoes too. “What does he look like?”

Tony thought a moment. “Steve says he looks like me.”

Pepper looked at him. “Really?”

“Straight from the Rogers’ mouth. So average height, brown hair, brown eyes, devilishly handsome...”

Pepper laughed. “That does narrow it down.”

Tony reached over and took her hand, squeezing it lightly. She squeezed back and he took a second to just feel completely and utterly in love with her. 

“Is that him?” Pepper pointed towards a student who was creeping up the edge of the lecture hall, obviously trying to avoid going anywhere near the main doors. 

“Bingo!” Tony cried and dashed away, skidding to a halt right in front of him. “Miss me?” he said conversationally as he crossed his arms. “Because I missed you. Last class. When you ran out.”

The guy frowned at him. “I don’t owe you anything. Now if you’ll excuse me….” He shoved past Tony and kept walking. 

“Hey!” Tony jogged in front of him again, this time fully blocking his way. “I thought you were coming over for pizza?”

The guy stopped moving and something like wistfulness flashed through his eyes. “I can’t. I thought I told you that.”

“We were going to talk about it. After we talked about why you don’t have a phone but before I invited you to my dad’s place for the weekend.” He grinned. “So, pizza?”

The guy shook his head. “Didn’t I just say no?”

“Not really.” Tony took the guy’s arm and started tugging him towards the top of the stairs. “Come on. You can meet my girlfriend Pepper and my brother, Steve. She’s more fun than he is, but he can be really funny when he’s not being a pain. And he really likes Hawaiian pizza, so if you like that you’ll probably get on really well—”

The guy pulled his arm out of Tony’s grasp. “I told you, no!”

“Not really,” Tony said, but he stopped walking. The guy was still glaring at him. Tony dropped his shoulders. “Come on,” he whined. “I’m a cool guy, and my friends are nice and free pizza! What’s the problem?”

“We can’t be friends.” 

Tony blinked. “Why not?”

“It’s complicated.” 

“I’m not asking you out,” Tony felt the need to clarify. “I know the media’s told everyone in, like, the _world_ that I’m bi, but I’m totally happy with Pepper. So, sorry to disappoint, but no.” The lecture hall was empty now, save for the prof collecting his notes and a few students who were chatting in the lower tiers. No one was paying them any attention. 

“This isn’t actually about you.”

“I think you saying you can’t be friends with me is, actually, about me.”

“I’m sorry,” the guy said, and he really looked like he was. “If it was up to me, I’d be sitting at your place eating pizza right now, but it’s not.” He dropped his gaze, chewing on his bottom lip. “I wish I could, but I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Tony tilted his head. He didn’t know the guy’s story, but some stuff he was saying was slotting into place in Tony’s brain. “If it were up to you, we’d have pizza, but it’s not up to you.” Tony raised his eyebrows. “So, who is it up to? Like, who’s pulling your strings on this?” 

The guy shook his head. “No one’s pulling my strings.”

“I don’t buy that for a second.” 

“Hi,” Pepper said, appearing beside Tony. She looked quickly between the two men and gave Tony a glance that he immediately interpreted as ‘cool it.’ She put out her hand, smiling sweetly. “My name’s Pepper.” 

The guy took it with a quick shake. “Uh, Robert?” he said, sounding totally unsure. “My name’s Robert.”

“Nice to meet you, Robert.” Pepper put her hands around Tony’s arm. “I just came to get my boyfriend.” She turned to Tony. “Come on, honey, we should go. Steve’s waiting for us.”

“He can wait,” Tony said. There was a mystery here that he needed to solve. He knew that Pepper had sensed the tension between him and Robert and was trying to do her diplomatic best to diffuse it, but Tony didn’t want to walk away yet. He focussed on Robert again. “So, who thinks you can’t be friends with me?”

Robert rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Look,” he said, “I know you mean well, but it is what it is. I can’t do better than sit with you in class, and even that’s probably too much. I’m sorry. And now I need to go home.” He pushed past Tony and Pepper and started the upward climb towards the doors.

“Wait!” Tony ran to catch up with him again. He grabbed Robert’s arm, effectively preventing him from moving further up the stairs without dragging Tony with him. “Is it your mom? Your dad? Did they work for my father? Because if they did, it wouldn’t surprise me if they hated anything Stark. Let me meet them—”

“It wasn’t my parents.” Robert tried to shake Tony off but Tony wouldn't let go. “Now please, I’ve got to go.”

“Let him go,” Pepper said gently. “You can continue this conversation next week.” 

Tony ignored them both. “Hey,” he said to Robert, “If you’re heading home now, why don’t I come with you. I can chat with whomever it is who hates my guts and we can clear this up—”

“No! You’re not coming home with me.” 

“What if I followed you?” Tony tried. “You know, just showed up on your doorstep, ‘hi! Mr. and Mrs. whatever-your-last-name-is, I’m Tony’—” 

“No!” Robert visibly took a deep breath. “You need to stop this.” He shook his arm. His voice was tight. “It’s making me angry, and you really don’t want to see me when I’m angry.”

“Tony,” Pepper said warningly. “Let’s let Robert go home. He’s asking nicely.”

“Yeah, well, _I’m_ asking nicely to know why we can’t be friends.” Tony glared at Robert. “I think he owes me that.”

Robert’s voice was a growl. “Get out of my way.”

“Tell me who doesn’t want us to be friends.” 

“Get out of my way!” Robert shoved Tony hard enough to make him stumble back, only he was on the stairs, and there was nothing under his foot. He fell.

“Tony!” Pepper crouched beside him. “Oh my God. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Tony wheezed. He’d landed on his back, his head bouncing off the step below. With Pepper’s help he succeeded in sitting up so his head wasn’t lower than his feet. He’d managed to catch his breath after the initial impact, but his back was going to be bruised where he’d smacked into the edge of the stair. But he could wiggle his toes so nothing was broken. So, win. 

The professor and the remaining students were all rushing towards him. 

Robert was still standing a few feet away from Tony, the expression on his face a combination of guilt and despair. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“It’s okay.” Tony waved his hand. His head was beginning to pound from bouncing it off the step. “You did warn me.”

“It’s not okay!” Pepper shouted at Robert. “You pushed him down the stairs! And if you’re still here in the next two seconds I’m calling the police and pressing charges!” 

“I’ll do that for you, miss.” One of the two students who’d been chatting pulled his phone out of his bag. 

“No one is calling the cops!” Tony said to the student. “It was an accident! I’m fine!” He turned back towards Robert, to reassure him that nothing bad was going to happen. 

But Robert was already gone.

* * *

“Take off your shirt.” 

Tony smirked. “If all it takes to get you in the mood is to fall down some stairs….”

Pepper rolled her eyes and gestured with her hands. “Shirt, Tony. I want to see how badly you were hurt.”

“Fine.” Tony sat down on the bed in his dorm room and pulled off the short- and long-sleeved tee-shirt combo he’d been wearing for class. She heard him hiss as he moved to get it over his shoulders. 

“Do you need help?” she said anxiously, kneeling on the bed. 

“Nope.” He pulled the shirts off and tossed them on the floor, then looked at her over his shoulder. “What’s the damage?”

Gently Pepper traced the red line that neatly bisected Tony’s shoulder blades, already beginning to purple. It looked like he’d been whipped. She swallowed. “It looks painful.” 

“It is painful!” Tony grinned. He rotated on his hip and gently tackled her to the bed, pressing her down and sliding his leg between her thighs. “So painful.” He kissed her. “So terribly painful.” He kissed her again. She giggled against his mouth, sliding her hands through his hair. “In fact.” He kissed her between words, “I think my injuries are grave, nurse. Only your tender loving can save me from dying—”

She shoved him off her.

Tony lay on his back on the bed, hands in the air and his expression comical in its disbelief. “What just happened?”

Pepper stood, smoothing her hair and her dress with more effort than it required. Her hands were shaking. “I don’t think you should joke about that.”

Tony stood and went to her. He stilled her hands. “Joke about what?” 

“That!” Pepper repeated. She shook him off and crossed her arms. Her heart felt like a rabbit in a cage. 

“Still not getting it.” Tony gingerly put his hands on her upper arms. “Pep, what’s going on?”

“You’re joking about _dying._ “ Pepper smacked his hands off with her wrists just like Jane had taught her. “And it’s not funny!”

Tony took a step back, looking bewildered. “Why shouldn’t I joke about that?”

“Because Robert pushed you down the stairs! You fell hard enough to bruise your back! If you’d fallen even a little bit differently you could’ve broken your neck, Tony!” She clenched her fists. “ _You could have died!_ "

“Whoa.” Tony put his hands up towards her. “Slow down honey.” He smiled reassuringly. “Pepper, I’m fine.”

“You could’ve died,” she repeated, but she let him pull her into his arms. 

He leaned his cheek against hers and held her tightly. “I didn’t die,” he said with a laugh. “Robert barely touched me—”

Pepper stepped back. “He pushed you down the stairs!” 

“It wasn’t that big a deal!”

“Why won’t you take this seriously?”

Tony made a face. “Because it’s not serious! I was bugging Robert, he got angry and pushed me. No big.” He shrugged. “I won’t be so handsey with the guy next time. It’ll be fine.”

Pepper’s mouth thinned. “You’re not seeing him again.”

Tony’s head bobbed back. “What?”

“He’s dangerous! No, Tony. You can’t see him again. He’s not safe.”

“He’s not dangerous! Okay, yeah, he’s got a bit of a temper, and some strength in his pipes but—”

“He _is_ dangerous! He hurt you! And if you’d fallen even a little bit differently—” Pepper stopped, fist to her mouth and eyes squeezed shut.

“Hey,” Tony said softly. “Don’t do that, Pepper. Really, I’m fine. Honest.”

“No.” she shook her head again. “ Don’t try to pretend it’s okay when it’s not.” Her tone was plaintive. “Tony, can’t you understand—”

“Understand what? That you’re now telling me who I can be friends with and who I can’t? No.” He shook his head. “I’ve spent my whole life with people telling me what to do and who I could be with, and I’m not going to let anyone do that to me again.” His face hardened. “Not even you.”

“But he’s dangerous! He hurt you—”

“He didn’t hurt me!” Tony exploded. “For fuck sakes! Natasha did worse damage when I’d first arrived! So he pushed me down the stairs, so what? It doesn’t even _compare_ to the shit my dad pulled when I was young!”

“He could kill you. He could actually kill you, Tony! Is that what you want?”

“He’s not going to kill me, Pepper! Don’t be so dramatic!” Tony was still shirtless, and she could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, his anger visible in the taught lines of his shoulders. 

“He scared me, Tony.” Pepper put her palms on Tony’s chest. “I don’t want you to be friends with him.”

Tony glared. “Too bad.”

“He doesn’t even _want_ to be friends with you,” Pepper said desperately. “He told you that!”

“That’s not the point and you know it. The point is that you’re trying to tell me what to do!” Tony stepped away from her and threw up his arms, as upset as she’d ever seen him. “You are _not_ the boss of me!”

“Why won’t you listen?” 

“ _Stop trying to run my life!_ “ Tony yelled. 

They stared at each other, chests heaving. Pepper could see the lines of Tony’s muscle, the way his veins bisected his skin. He looked fragile and so different from the invulnerable persona he presented to the world. 

He looked like a man someone could kill merely by pushing him down the stairs.

“I can’t do this. I can’t keep fighting you to save your life.” 

“What? Can’t do what?” Tony caught her arm as she headed towards the door. “Pepper!”

She stopped. “I meant what I said. You want to be friends with Robert? Fine. But I can’t watch you put yourself in danger….” Her voice broke.

“I won’t _be_ in danger!” Tony threw up his hands again. “Why can’t you understand?”

“Why can’t _you_ understand?” 

“And now we’re right back at the beginning.” Tony shook his head. “I’m not giving up Robert just because you tell me to. Not you. Not _anyone._ My life is my own.”

“Then I guess we don’t have anything else to talk about.” Pepper went to the door. 

“Don’t be like that! Pepper!”

“I hope you and Robert are very happy together,” Pepper said snidely as she pulled opened the door.

Tony banged it shut before she could leave. “We are not done.”

“Let me go.” Pepper glared at him. “I would’ve thought you’d have learned your lesson already about holding people against their will.”

“Fine.” Tony raised his hands in surrender. “Walk out. But we will be talking about this later.” 

“Not if I can help it,” Pepper said as she pulled the door open again.

“It’s a long ride to Poughkeepsie if you’re not talking!” Tony called after her as she left. 

“Tell it to Robert!” Pepper yelled as she slammed the door to her room. 

And if she leaned against it and cried, well that was nobody’s business but her own.

* * *

It was a very subdued ride to the farm. 

Steve sat in the front passenger seat, staring out the window. Usually Pepper got the front seat, but she’d insisted she’d rather sit in the back and Tony, uncharacteristically, didn’t argue. 

Tony had traded in his fancy two-seater for an even fancier four-seater when the three of them went to university, which certainly made the trips to and from the farm easier. Steve had only been back once since University began, but in that trip there had been music playing and Tony and Pepper were laughing and joking together in the front seat while Steve sat in the back, enjoying their antics. But this ride was completely different.

Steve was dimly aware that there was something going on between the two of them, but his head was buzzing with his own plans. It was hard for him to concentrate on anything else. 

They’d stopped for gas and drinks halfway to Poughkeepsie. Pepper had gone inside without saying anything and Tony had barely exchanged two words with Steve when he’d gone to buy gas. The three of them had returned to the car and Tony had handed them each a bottle of water. 

Pepper had refused with a small shake of her head, and Tony’s expression made it look like she’d refused something far more important.

Steve almost asked what was going on, but then he realized he’d have to deal with whatever they said and he just didn’t have the energy. Maybe that made him a bad friend and brother, but after he told everyone his plans, he wouldn’t be around much anyway. It was probably better this way.

He leaned back in his seat, watching the landscape roll by and the way the leaves were changing as summer inexorably turned towards fall, hoping the soothing colours would lull him into sleep. He’d had a lot of trouble sleeping over the last few days. It’d left him feeling exhausted and totally wrung out. 

He hadn’t felt this emotionally wrecked since his mother died. He’d forgotten how much it sucked. 

_It’ll be over soon,_ he tried to console himself. He’d talk to everyone this weekend. He’d talk to _Bucky,_ tell them all his plans and then it’d be done. 

And just because the thought of telling Bucky made him feel like he was ripping out his own heart didn’t mean it he’d change his mind. 

_No one loves you,_ whispered in his head. 

“Shut up,” he muttered. He closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep.

* * *

“Where’s Pepper?” Natasha asked as she slid into her seat at the dinner table.

Tony glanced up from glaring at his fork. “Her place.”

“Why?” Clint looked at Phil as if he’d have the answer. “I thought she always had dinner with us when she first came back from school.”

“Guess you thought wrong.”

Clint bobbed back from Tony’s dark expression. “Should I call her? I could call—”

“It’s okay,” Phil said quietly, putting his hand on Clint’s forearm. Thanks to Clint’s history of abuse, he was hyper-aware of others’ emotions. It made him extremely empathetic but also caused him a lot of stress when others were upset. Phil gave his forearm a gentle squeeze. “I’m sure Pepper just wanted to spend some time with her family. We’ll see her tomorrow.”

Natasha looked up from her phone. “She says she and Tony are fighting.”

Tony’s expression was dark with anger. “That’s none of your fucking business!”

“Language,” Phil said. 

“Of course it’s my fucking business!” Natasha said over Phil, “she’s my best friend!”

“Well I don’t need you screaming my business to the whole table!” Tony stood, gesturing wildly enough that Steve actually had to duck his head.

“Hey,” he protested. “Tony, watch it!”

“You watch it!” Tony spat back. “Like I have to watch you and Bucky pretend that you’re not hating on each other while I’m trying to eat my dinner!”

“We haven’t actually started dinner,” Clint said.

“You leave me and Bucky out of this!” Steve stood, glaring at Tony. 

Bucky remained sitting far too quietly at the table. His one hand clenched into a fist in his lap, his eyes securely centred on his plate. 

“This is not the right place or time—” Phil began.

“Why are you fighting with Pepper?” Natasha shouted at Tony. “You _promised_ me you’d never do anything to hurt her!”

Tony whirled on her. “And why does it have to be my fault?”

“Because that’s you,” Steve snarled. “You’re the guy that hurts people.” 

“Nice. Fucking nice, Rogers.” Tony threw his napkin down onto his empty plate. “You’ve always got to take whatever chance you get to kick me in the balls. Don’t you?” He shoved away from the table. “Well fuck you all.” 

“Tony, wait!” Clint stood, his hand outstretched towards his brother, his eyes wide with distress. “Steve didn’t mean it. Did you, Steve?”

“Jesus, Clint!” Tony swore. “Will you just stop trying to fix everything?”

“Don’t talk for me!” Steve yelled at Clint.

Clint’s eyes widened and took a step back from the table, his chair scraping along the floor. 

Bucky stood and started heading for the stairs. 

“ _Enough!_ “ Phil shouted at all of them. As always he was amazed at how quickly everything seemed to escalate when the children got going. It’d been a while since they’d fought and he clearly wasn’t used to it anymore. He was gratified to see that they’d stopped, and even Bucky halted in his progress across the living room. “Sit down,” Phil growled at everyone. “That means you too, Bucky.” He waited for the teen to sit back down before he spoke again. “Okay, that was entirely unacceptable—”

“But Natasha—” Tony started.

“No.” Phil cut him off. “I am _not_ done.” Tony crossed his arms and sat back in his chair, sulking. “That was unacceptable,” Phil started again. He turned to Natasha. “Pepper may be your best friend, but she’s in a relationship with Tony. The two of them need to solve their own problems. It was extremely disrespectful for you to broadcast Pepper’s text to the whole table. Understand?”

Natasha dropped her eyes. “Yes, Papa.” She glanced up at Tony. “I’m sorry.”

“Good.” Phil turned to Tony. “And the same goes for you. Steve and Bucky’s relationship is their business and they also need to solve their own problems.” And clearly there were problems. Steve was sitting between Natasha and Tony, as far away as he could get from Bucky and still be at the same table. 

“But—”

“No. No buts,” Phil said over him. “You shouldn’t’ve brought their relationship into it.”

Tony blew out a breath. “Fine. It’s always my fault and Steve’s perfect.”

“I didn’t say that. And in fact, I was just about to reprimand Steve for his hurtful and unnecessary comments.” Phil turned to Steve, who met his gaze before straightening his spine and turning to Tony. 

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Steve said. “I was angry and I lashed out at you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Well maybe you need to deal with what’s making you angry, rather than yelling at the rest of us.” Tony crossed his arms and looked pointedly at Bucky. “Because, you know, not a punching bag.”

“That sounds like excellent advice,” Phil said to Tony. “And perhaps you’d like to follow it?” 

Tony rolled his eyes, but he dropped his arms and met Clint’s gaze. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“It’s okay.” Clint’s smile was tremulous. 

“Oh shit,” Tony sighed. He stood and opened his arms. “C’mere.”

Clint bounced up and went to Tony, who enveloped him in a hug. “You’re so sensitive!” Tony said.

“You’re so loud!” Clint shot back, but he hugged Tony before he returned to his seat.

Tony stayed standing. “Hey Buckster,” he said to the overly-silent boy. “You need a hug too?” 

Bucky shook his head, a quick movement of his jaw with no eye contact. 

“Fine.” There was a flash of hurt in Tony’s eyes as he sat down. “But don’t say I never offered.”

Phil frowned. Bucky seemed as withdrawn as he’d ever been. It’d been obvious when Steve and Bucky hadn’t embraced when the boys had first arrived that there was something going on between the two of them, and it was equally as obvious now that they weren’t sitting together. Whatever the issue was, it clearly wasn’t anything good. But it was normal for relationships to have their ups and downs, especially when the relationship was between teenagers with such difficult pasts. But it concerned Phil greatly to see Bucky react like this, like he had no resilience. He made a mental note to contact Sam as soon as possible, to get him in to talk with Bucky. The last thing he wanted was for Bucky to revert to his old habits of isolation and silence. 

Clint cleared his throat. “Um, can we eat?”

Phil huffed out a laugh. “Of course.” He began serving. He’d made roast beef with vegetables from Natasha’s garden, a meal to celebrate them all being back together, even though the solemn mood and downturned gazes didn’t make it feel much like a celebration. He served Tony first, hoping the boy would see it as the gesture of love that Phil intended. He looked into Tony’s dark brown eyes. “I’m glad you’re home.” 

Tony blinked. “Oh. Well, of course you are,” he said quickly, but his smile was pleased. 

“I’m glad you guys are home, too!” Clint exclaimed as he tucked into his food. “We missed you guys a lot.”

Steve reached over and ruffled Clint’s hair. “I missed you too, buddy.”

“And, um, I’m sorry I spoke for you,” Clint said in a rush. 

“I know you were just trying to help,” Steve sighed. “I just like things to be my own business, okay?”

“Okay.” Clint nodded. He swallowed. “I just don’t like fighting.” 

“I don’t think anyone does.” Phil smiled kindly at Clint. It was particularly hard for Clint to tell others his likes and dislikes and he was pleased to see even this small attempt. 

“Tell that to Pepper,” Tony mumbled around a carrot.

“It is nice to have you home, though,” Natasha said to Tony and Steve. She was sitting right beside Steve, close enough that he could barely use his left arm to cut his meat, but he didn’t seem to mind. “Even if all you do is yell at each other.”

Tony smirked. “Maybe if Steve wasn’t such an _ass_ ….” 

“Tony,” Phil admonished mildly. 

“Sorry,” Tony muttered. 

“It’s nice to be home,” Steve sighed, pointedly ignoring Tony. He looked at Bucky who still didn’t meet his eyes. Steve frowned and he focussed back on his meal.

“Do you think you guys can start coming home every weekend?” Clint asked. “I know school’s hard, but New York is so far away….”

“You can come visit anytime,” Tony said grandly. “We got room in our dorm. I’ll even buy you a bus ticket.”

Clint immediately looked to Phil. “Could we?”

Phil shrugged. “If you’re homework’s done and it doesn’t interfere with Tony and Steve’s studying I don’t see why not. “

“Awesome!” 

“We’re going to go next weekend,” Natasha said excitedly. “Pepper can take me shopping.” 

Clint nudged Bucky with his elbow. “Hey Buck, you gonna come?”

“Yeah.” Tony nodded. “You should totally come. See what you’d be missing by going to college here. Maybe even change your mind.” He looked at Steve through his lashes as he took a bite of meat, all innocence. 

Bucky swallowed. “I’m not sure.” He looked up at Steve for a second, and his gaze was filled with such longing that Phil's heart broke just to see it. But Steve didn’t catch it. He studiously avoided Bucky’s eyes.

“Why aren’t you sure?” Clint tilted his head at Bucky. “Free trip to New York!”

“You should take advantage,” Steve said. He still wasn’t looking at Bucky as he spoke. “Because I’m not going to be in New York to visit much longer.”

Natasha and Clint immediately broke into huge grins. “Are you transferring back?” Natasha cried with Clint’s “that’d be _great!_ echoing in the background. “Are you coming _home?_ “

“No.” Steve’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m joining the army.”

* * *

“What the _fuck_ are you doing?”

Steve raised his head from his pillow and removed his headphones. He frowned at Tony. “Don’t you knock?”

“No. And, I repeat, what the fuck are you doing?”

Steve had retreated to his room after he’d made his announcement at dinner, unwilling to bear the negative reaction from his family. Phil had knocked on his closed door earlier, but Steve hadn’t answered and Phil had left him alone. Clearly Tony had no such compunction.

“Listening to music.” 

“No! I meant—” Tony stopped. “What’re you listening to?”

"[Love Interruption](https://youtu.be/iErNRBTPbEc) by Jack White.” 

Tony made a face. “Well, that’s a happy song.”

Steve made a face back at him. “You asked.”

“I thought you’d be listening to something _good_.”

Steve’s frown deepened. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion about my taste in music.”

“You really do have questionable taste, though. Except for Bucky. Bucky’s a choice I totally get.”

“I don’t remember asking you about Bucky.” Steve's temper rose. 

“I don’t think you remember Bucky much at all, actually.” Tony glared at him.

That made Steve sit up and glare back. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that a good boyfriend wouldn’t just fuck off to join the army.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.” 

“Right,” Tony drawled. “And yet, here you are.”

“That’s not what I’m doing!” Steve repeated forcefully. 

“Then what _are_ you doing?” Tony crossed his arms. “Because you kinda did just say you were leaving to join the army.”

“I _am!_ “ Steve snapped. “It just doesn’t have anything to do with Bucky!” That wasn’t _entirely_ a lie. It was about getting away before Bucky decided to leave him. _No one loves you_ whispered in his head.

“And yet Bucky’s the one whose boyfriend is leaving him. Because you’re leaving. For the army.” Tony tilted his head mockingly. “So _how_ does this have nothing to do with him?”

“It just doesn’t, okay?” Steve stood, too angry to stay on his bed. “This is _my_ choice made for _my own_ reasons. Bucky’s got nothing to do with it.” 

“So what are these ‘reasons?’” Tony made air quotes. “There wasn’t much of an explanation over dinner.”

Steve glowered. “You wouldn’t understand.” 

“Seriously. What are they? Duty? Honour? Country? The hot uniforms?” His expression turned thoughtful. “I get that, actually. Nothing like a strong, fit man in a uniform. And now that DADT has been repealed, it’d be way easier for you to get some of that camouflage-covered ass—”

“Stop it!” Steve hissed at him. “I’m with Bucky!” 

“Really,” Tony drawled again. “Because I would’ve thought that, you know, having a relationship might actually mean you _didn’t_ run away to be a soldier-boy. But maybe your definition’s a bit different than mine.”

“Oh, like your definition of a relationship is so great!” Steve shot back. “I’m sure Pepper’s just thrilled with your definition!”

Tony’s eyes blazed. “Don’t you fucking talk about my relationship with Pepper.”

Steve put his hands on his hips. “Why not, Tony? You’re totally okay with talking about my relationship with Bucky.”

“That’s different! You’re treating Bucky like shit! I saw his face at dinner, after you dumped your _fantastic_ life plan on all of us. You never told him. Did you? He was surprised as the rest of us! That’s really classy Rogers. Well done.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve snarled. “What about how you’re treating Pepper? She sure as fuck didn’t look happy in the car today. She wouldn’t even talk to you! I doubt that just came out of nowhere.”

“You have _no idea_ about me and her!” 

“I’m not blind! She barely looked at you in the car!” 

“But I’m going to fix it!” Tony shouted. “Which is way fucking more than you’re going to do! You dropped all this shit on Bucky and you’re not even trying to fix it with him, are you? You’re in your room, hiding like a fucking _baby_ —”

“You think I don’t want to talk to him?” Steve’s voice was so loud his throat actually hurt. “You think that I’m avoiding _him?_

“It sure as hell looks that way!” Tony’s voice was just as loud. “You didn’t even tell him you were leaving!”

“I _was_ going to tell him—”

“But you chickened out?” Tony interrupted. “Got too scared to man up and tell your boyfriend you’re going all ‘Army Strong’ on him? No wonder he looked so bitch-slapped—”

“I was going to tell him but he hasn’t spoken to me since I got back!” Steve shouted over Tony’s words. “Everyone’s so concerned about Bucky! But no one’s noticed that it’s Bucky who’s not fucking talking to _me!_ “ 

Tony stopped in surprise. “He hasn’t?”

“No,” Steve said flatly. “He won’t even look me in the eye, okay?” He closed he eyes against the sudden rush of pain thinking about it brought. “You keep saying I need to talk to him, but he won’t even tell me that he’s broken up with me.”

“He hasn’t broken up with you!” Tony exclaimed, and then softer. “Has he?”

“I don’t know!” Steve ran his hands through his hair. He took a deep breath, willing himself not to start crying in front of Tony. 

“Let’s ask him,” Tony said. He pulled his phone from his pocket and started texting.

Steve’s head shot up. “What?”

“And send,” Tony said. Apparently their fight had just been forgotten. “I told him Phil wanted him to come back.”

Steve's heart seized in his chest. He wanted to talk to Bucky more than anything. But what if the other boy wanted to break up with him? He couldn’t even think about it. “It doesn’t matter,” he said out loud. “It doesn’t matter if he’s breaking up with me. I’m joining the army.” He told himself he believed it.

Tony wasn’t listening. He was staring at his phone. “He hasn’t texted back.”

“It hasn’t been that long.”

Tony’s fingers flashed over his keys. “Clint and Natasha aren’t with him,” Tony read from his phone. He looked up. “Where’d Captain Hook go?”

* * *

Pepper blew out a breath and tried to focus on the open page in front of her. She was sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of half-drunk tea and a crumby plate resting beside her elbow. In her rush to get away from Tony she’d refused the standing invitation she’d had to eat Friday dinner with Phil’s family. It was a ritual she’d started when Phil had first adopted Natasha two years ago as a way to help the young woman feel more at ease in her new home. It had continued when first Clint and then Steve had arrived. When Phil took Tony in next, she’d had absolutely no reason to stop coming over on Friday nights. 

In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d skipped a Friday night dinner that hadn’t involved a major holiday or a high fever. Clearly her parents couldn’t either, because they’d been out when she’d gotten home. The note she’d read had said they’d gone to watch her brother’s soccer game and they were going out for dinner afterwards and they ‘hoped she had a good time.’ 

If only they knew she’d eaten leftover pizza cold from the fridge with a stimulating economics textbook for company. 

Pepper sighed again, and then propped her chin on her hand, staring at the page determinedly. She might be so angry at Tony that she could spit, but she’d be damned if it affected her grade-point average. 

Of course it would be easier if she could stop crying every time she thought about him.

Pepper wiped at her eyes with more force than her tears actually required. _Why_ couldn’t he understand how frightened she was for him? Why didn’t he _care?_

She’d only been dating Tony since the previous February, but she’d already had the rather stunning revelation that she was going to marry him. Everything about him made her happy. His warmth, his smile, his intellect, his humour, his kindness… there wasn’t anything about Tony Edward Stark that Pepper didn’t like. Except for his tremendous capacity for risk, and how reckless he was about his own safety.

He hadn’t been particularly bad since he’d moved in with Phil, but she’d read the magazine articles and she’d certainly seen the videos. Tony got into fights and drove too fast. He blew things up with terrifying frequency. He’d been arrested and used drugs. He’d drank to excess. In fact the whole reason he was living with Phil was because he’d been arrested in Boston for underage drinking after nearly dying from alcohol poisoning. It was hard not to think about how close the world had come to losing its brightest spark. How close she could’ve come to never meeting him at all.

She wiped her eyes again, hugging herself as she remembered his fight with Robert. When Tony's head hit the stairs there had been a terrifying moment when she thought his neck had broken and he’d actually just died, right there in front of her.

“God!” She stood up and went to the sink, bracing herself against its cool edge. She really wished her mother was home.

Pepper filled a glass of water and returned to the table, debating with herself whether or not she wanted to call her mom. Even if her mom didn’t quite understand what Pepper saw in Tony, she’d always been supportive of her daughter’s relationship. And Pepper knew she’d have some good advice. 

But her mom was out to dinner with her dad and baby brother, and she probably really didn’t need her daughter calling her in tears. Even if Pepper really wanted to talk to her.

Just as she picked up her phone, the doorbell rang.

_Tony!_ Pepper’s heart leapt to her throat as she ran to the door. 

“Pepper?” 

It was Natasha, wearing what looked like Clint’s jean jacket and his purple scarf. Her face was streaked with tears.

* * *

It was terribly dark in the forest. 

Things had gotten a little blurry for Bucky after Steve made his announcement at dinner. Steve said he was going to join the army as soon as he could, maybe even before the end of first semester. If everything worked well, he’d said, he’d be gone by spring.

It’d felt like Bucky’s heart shut down along with his brain. All that he could hear was _Steve is leaving_ echoing in his head and the _shush, shush, shush_ of the blood in his ears. And all he could think was that everyone he’d ever loved had left him and how much it _hurt._ And he’d ran. 

He didn’t remember getting up from the table, or putting on his boots, but he must have done both because he’d come back to himself somewhere along one of the forest paths he’d normally take with his horse. 

He was sweating and breathing hard, which told him he’d been running for a while. He seemed to be pretty far along the path as well, since he couldn’t see any sign of the lights from the farm anywhere around him. Even the stars were barely visible through the thick canopy of leaves overhead. It’d been early evening when they’d had dinner, but it was almost October and it got dark quickly this time of year. 

Bucky was now deep in the forest at night, and it was chilly and dark. Just like the night he’d lost half his left arm.

Bucky’s breath stalled in his lungs. 

_“Shut your fucking mouth, brat!” His father turned in his seat and slapped Bucky across the face hard enough that Bucky had seen stars. But his father hadn’t let go of the wheel, and the car went off the road and over the edge of the ravine and down, down, down…_

Bucky sat down hard on the path, curling his arm around his knees and tucking his head in to make himself as small as possible. It had been so dark that night, the only light had been from the car’s headlamps, still burning even though the car had smashed into a tree. Even though two of the three occupants were dead. He’d had to drag himself out of the car and back up the embankment. His head was bleeding and his left arm had been broken so badly the doctors had needed to amputate it. 

And he’d spent the next ten years in total silence because he didn’t want to talk about what happened. He _couldn’t_. If he did he knew he'd die—

He squeezed his eyes shut, tears sliding down his cheeks. His breath rasped in his lungs, his heart beating heavily. He was surrounded by the quiet noises of the forest and a dark deep enough to touch. 

_Get up,_ he thought to himself. _Get up and turn around and just walk home._

But he couldn’t. He was in the forest and the car was smashed and broken and glass had sprayed everywhere and his dad was dead and his sister’s car seat had slammed into his arm and she’d hit the ceiling and her blood—

Bucky choked back a sob, forcing himself to stay quiet. He couldn’t make a sound. No noise. Silence would keep him safe. He wrapped his arms around his head and shut his eyes.

His phone rang in his jean pocket, an incessant buzzing of noise and vibration. He didn’t even reach for it.

* * *

Phil looked up at Tony and Steve clattering down the stairs.

He’d heard them fighting. Their words were indistinct but the volume had made their anger apparent. Phil assumed that Tony was angry at Steve because of the announcement he’d made at dinner about joining the army, and he couldn’t disagree. He’d been shocked to hear it too—shocked and hurt. He’d tried to make a home for Steve that he wouldn’t want to leave so quickly. Steve had only been with them for a year and a half . 

Phil had gone up to Steve’s room after dinner to try to speak with him about it, but Steve’s door was closed and he hadn’t responded to Phil’s knocking. No matter how much Phil wanted to understand Steve’s choice, he wasn’t going to invade Steve’s privacy to do it. 

Leave it to Tony to see a closed door and go through it anyway. No wonder the boys ended up in a fight. Phil had thought about intervening, but the boys were living together at university now and deserved the responsibility of handling their own conflicts. Hopefully they’d managed to sort it out.

“Is Bucky down here?” Steve said as he walked into the kitchen. “Tony texted him but he’s not answering.”

“Yeah. Like, five minutes ago. He hasn’t even read the message,” Tony added.

Phil blinked. “He went to the barn with Clint after dinner.” He remembered Clint saying something about the barn and Bucky running out with him. “They were a little upset with your unexpected announcement over supper.”

Steve blushed at Phil’s words but held his gaze. “I’m sure they’ll get used to it, Mr. Coulson.” 

Phil sighed inwardly. Steve only used formal language like that when he was upset and unwilling to talk about whatever it was that was bothering him. Phil made a mental note to ensure that he and Steve had a chance to talk, and preferably before the boys went back to school on Monday. 

Tony shook his head. “Clint says Bucky’s not with him.” He showed Phil the message. “And so did Natasha. We don’t know where he is.”

Phil's heart dropped into his stomach. When Bucky had first come to stay with them and then ran away almost immediately, Steve had found him in the barn. But the short time Bucky was missing had been among the worst of Phil’s life, and that included being shot by Loki and then never finding Bruce. “Could he be hiding in the barn again?”

“Maybe? We could ask Clint to check.”

“I’m asking,” Tony said, his fingers flying over his phone. He waited a moment and then read the returned text. “He just did. No Buckster.” 

“Okay.” Phil ruthlessly shoved down the first stirrings of panic. While the temperature wasn’t warm it wasn’t nearly the killing cold that February had been. And unlike then, Bucky now knew his way around the woods. He was also talking now, which meant he’d holler back if someone called for him. It was a much better situation than it’d been before and Phil needed to remember that. “Steve, have you tried to call him?”

Steve blinked. “But if he didn’t answer Tony—”

“You’re his boyfriend,” Phil said patiently. “He might be more inclined to answer you, even if he’s upset.”

“But he’s not really speaking to me,” Steve said quietly. But he pulled out his phone and keyed up Bucky’s number.

The three of them waited while it rang through. Steve made a face. “He’s not answering. It’s just gone to voice mail.” He left a message asking Bucky to call and then hung up.

“Okay.” Tony was concentrating on his phone. “It’s big brother time.”

“What’re you doing?” Steve asked. 

“Using the ‘Where My Friends At?’ app. Unless you’ve specifically shut it off it enables your friends to track you through your StarkPhone.”

“I didn’t know my phone could do that,” Steve said. 

“That’s the point.” Tony waved his phone in illustration. “If you knew about it, you’d shut it off, and then I couldn’t find you.”

Steve frowned. “That seems really invasive.”

“Yup,” Tony said easily. “But after the stunt you pulled last February and, you know, almost _died_ , I kinda thought it’d be a good idea.”

“I didn’t almost die—”

“Does Bucky have his phone with him?” Phil cut in. Tony and Steve were volatile together at the best of times; he certainly didn’t want them to start up again. Especially when they needed to be worried about Bucky. 

“Yup,” Tony said again. “And he’s on the trail.”

“I’ll get my coat,” Phil said. 

“No,” Steve said. “Thanks, but I think it’d be better if I went alone.”

“But something must be wrong if he’s not answering his phone. At least take Tony with you, in case you need help.”

Tony looked at Steve. “I’ll get my boots on,” he said at Steve’s nod and jogged over to the door.

“Thank you,” Phil didn’t like the idea of Steve going out into the woods to find Bucky with only Tony for backup, but he didn’t want to spend any more time arguing. “Please bring your phone and text me as soon as you find him.” 

“Yessir,” Steve said, flashing his phone before he put it in his jacket pocket. He got his shoes on and moved to the door, grabbing one of the flashlights hung there for emergencies. 

“I’ve got Bucky’s jacket.” Tony showed it to Steve. “He forgot it.”

“Text me as soon as you find him!” Phil repeated as Steve and Tony slipped out. He sighed as Steve shouted ‘yessir!’ again as the door closed. 

He had to trust that Steve and Tony could handle whatever state they found Bucky in, and if they couldn’t, that they’d call for help. 

But it didn’t make the waiting any easier.

* * *

“What’s happened?” Pepper ushered Natasha inside, her heart hammering. She kept remembering last winter when Phil had called her to help with an injured Tony, and how he’d looked with his hand wrapped in a towel soaked with his blood. “Is it Tony?”

Natasha shook her head. “He’s fine. It’s Steve. He’s joining the army.” There were tears in her eyes. 

Pepper gaped. “What?”

“He’s joining the army. He’s already spoken to a recruiter and he’s going to drop out of school to join. He told us tonight at dinner.” 

“That seems really unlike him,” Pepper said slowly. “I thought he was happy about going to Maria Stark University and studying nursing.”

“I know. I thought he was happy with _us._ “ Natasha’s lip quivered.

“Oh honey.” Pepper enveloped the younger woman in her arms. Natasha leaned her head on Pepper’s shoulder while Pepper stroked her back. “I’m sure this has nothing to do with how happy you and the boys make him. It’s probably something he’s been thinking about for a long time.”

“No. Bucky was as surprised as the rest of us. If Steve was thinking about it, he would’ve told Bucky. Bucky didn’t even know.” 

“Really?” Pepper said. But she remembered the text Steve had received from Bucky earlier that week, when Bucky had said he wasn’t coming to school in New York, and how distraught Steve had looked. “Do you think he and Bucky are fighting?”

Natasha drew back with a shrug. “I don’t know. Bucky’s never said.” 

“Well, Steve should’ve said something to Bucky before he made this decision. It’s terribly unfair to dump something like that on your boyfriend in front of everyone. Bucky must’ve been devastated!” 

Natasha nodded. “He and Clint ran out almost before Steve finished speaking.” She hugged herself. “I came here.”

“I'm glad you came here. I know how much you care about Steve.”

“Steve’s mine,” Natasha said emphatically. “He’s _my_ brother. He can’t just leave!”

Pepper took a breath. “Maybe joining the military’s really important to him.”

“But we’re important to him! We’re his family! He can’t just leave us.”

“I know,” Pepper said, rubbing Natasha’s arm. “But its Steve’s life. He has to be the one to decide how to live it.”

“It’s not his life,” Natasha said with total sincerity. “He has a family now. His life is ours.”

“Just because you love someone doesn’t mean you get to tell them how to live.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Pepper’s thoughts immediately flashed to Tony and their fight. _My life is my own_. He'd been so angry, and right until this second, Pepper hadn’t understood what he’d meant. 

“Of course we do. That’s what it means to have a family. It means there're people who care if you live or die. People you have to live _for._ Steve wants to leave because he doesn’t understand.”

“It _is_ his life,” Pepper said, and now she was arguing Tony’s side from their fight. “No matter how much we love him, or he loves _us,_ he’s the one who gets to decide what he does with his life. He gets to choose where he goes and what he does and who he does it with. We may not like it, but we have to respect it, because we love and respect _him._ “ She grimaced as she said it. She did both love and respect Tony, and she was beginning to see that she probably couldn’t force him to not be friends with Robert. No matter how much she didn’t like it.

“No.” Natasha shook her head. “Now _you_ don’t understand. He could go overseas and die in the army. He doesn’t have the right to choose to die!”

“Well no,” Pepper agreed carefully, “no one really has the right to choose to die. But that’s a risk that he’ll take joining the military. It’s a risk all our soldiers—”

“No! He can’t choose this! He can’t choose to leave us and die—” Suddenly Natasha was sobbing into the oversized sleeves of Clint’s jean jacket, her shoulders hunched away from Pepper, sounding like her heart was broken.

Pepper froze. She’d known Natasha for over two years and she’d never seen her this upset. Pepper gave herself a shake and went to her friend. “Don’t cry, sweetheart.” Pepper wrapped her arms around Natasha again. “Steve’s big and strong and I’m sure he’ll do very well in the army. There’s no reason think he’s going to die.” 

“He can’t choose to die.” Natasha’s tears were soaking through Pepper’s shirt. “He just can’t. He’s my brother and I love him too much.” 

“You’re not going to lose him,” Pepper said as she hugged Natasha. “He’s going to be fine.” 

“He’s going to die!” Natasha sobbed. “Just like my mother!” 

And suddenly Pepper got it. She remembered last winter after Steve came home from hospital. In the quiet of that evening, all of Coulson’s kids had admitted the horrors of their childhoods to each other. Natasha had told everyone how her mother had died of a drug overdose. The woman had never quit using drugs, even though it meant she’d left her daughter all alone. No wonder Natasha was insisting that Steve’s life belonged to his family. It was exactly what she wished her mother had believed. 

“He’s not going to die,” Pepper said, feeling exactly how inadequate those words were. “And even if he joins the army, he’s not going to leave you. He loves you and you know that. He’s your brother, Natasha, as much as Tony and Bucky are. And they’ll never leave you and Steve won’t either.”

“You don’t know that.” Natasha pulled away. Her eyes were terribly red. 

“I do,” Pepper said with certainty. “Before Steve came to live with you, he didn’t have anyone who loved him. Now he has a whole house full of people who do. He’s not going to walk away from all that.”

“But why does he want to go?” 

“I don’t know. But I’m sure he’s got a very good reason.” 

“I doubt it,” Natasha sneered. “There’s no way he could have a good reason for an idea that stupid.”

“Maybe you should ask him what his reason is, before deciding it’s stupid,” Pepper said, realizing that she’d never actually asked Tony why he wanted to be friends with Robert before telling him he couldn’t. “Maybe once you understand his reason you’ll feel better about him going.”  


“I won’t,” Natasha said. “Besides. I think I figured it out.”

Pepper tilted her head. “Oh?”

“I think it’s because of Bucky. He’s not going to school in New York with Steve, so Steve’s leaving.”

Pepper considered that. “Could be. But you’ll have to ask to be sure.”

“Do you think I could change his mind?” 

“Maybe. But that might be hard if his mind’s made up.” Once again she thought of Tony and their fight.

Natasha looked dejected. “But if I can’t change his mind, what can I do?”

“You’ll figure out something.” Pepper gave Natasha’s shoulder a squeeze before she looked her in the eye. “But I can promise you, Natasha, your brother is not doing this so he can leave you. Or get himself killed. Your family loves you. You have to believe that.” 

“I’ll try,” Natasha said quietly. “But my mother loved me, too.”

“I know she did.” Pepper blinked back an unexpected rush of tears. “And I am so sorry that she died.” 

“Me, too.” Natasha wiped at her eyes with Clint’s sleeve. 

They stayed like that for a moment, Pepper sharing Natasha’s grief until Natasha sighed deeply.  


“I should probably get home.”

“Want me to drive you? It’ll save you a walk in the dark.” 

“I’d like that.” Natasha’s smile was small but real. 

Pepper slid on her coat and a pair of her brother’s shoes and took Natasha out to her car.

“So,” Natasha said conversationally as she buckled herself in. “How’s your fight with Tony going?”

Pepper huffed out a laugh. “A lot better until you and I talked just now. I may’ve realized that I was wrong and that he might’ve been right.”

Natasha burst out laughing. “I promise I won’t tell him.” 

“That’s okay. I’m planning on telling him myself when I get to your house.”

Natasha eyed her. “So I see how your offer of a drive was totally altruistic.” 

Pepper laughed again. “Can I say it was eighty-eight percent about you and only twelve percent about Tony?” 

Natasha settled back into her seat. “I’ll take it.” She suddenly became very interested in the edge of Clint’s coat. “Thanks for listening.” 

“You’re my best friend.” 

Natasha smiled down at her hands. Her phone buzzed and she fished it out of the pocket of Clint’s jacket. “It’s Tony.”

“Is everything okay?”

“He’s asking if Bucky’s with me,” Natasha said as she texted back. “Why would he be asking me that?”

“I thought you said he was with Clint.”

“I said he _left_ with Clint. I bet he’s gone missing.” 

“Damn,” Pepper muttered. “Well, we’re almost there. We’ll find out more when we arrive.” 

Natasha nodded, still looking at her phone. “Tony says he and Steve are going to look for him. They’ve taken the ATV. They think he’s on the trail.”

“I hope he’s okay.” 

Natasha’s mouth was a thin line. “This is all Steve’s fault.” 

Pepper thought she might be right.

* * *

“You should’ve let me drive.”

Steve grit his teeth and steered the ATV slowly down the trail. The single head lamp illuminated the path in front of them into tones of an old fashioned photograph: Sepia and brown; yellow and black. 

“Visibility isn’t that great,” Steve said. “I’d rather find Bucky before I ran him over.”

“At this rate you won’t have to worry about visibility. It’ll be dawn.” 

“I’m trying to be _safe!_ “

“You drive like an old man.”

In response Steve gunned the motor and the ATV lurched forward, making Tony squawk as he grappled for purchase on the handles behind his back. “Asshole!”

Steve cut speed again as they continued forward. The night was cool and nearly silent as the ATV sent the nocturnal wildlife into hiding. The sound of the ATV was the only noise in the forest, but even at low speed it was loud enough to require Steve and Tony to speak up. They’d been searching for at least fifteen minutes, and Steve knew that if they hadn’t found him after thirty they needed to let Phil know so he could call the cops. Steve hated the idea of a bunch of people Bucky didn’t know practically running him to ground while they looked for him. If Bucky was upset already, there was no way that a group of volunteers searching for him was going to make that better. 

Especially since it was Steve’s fault that Bucky was missing in the first place. 

Tony had been texting and calling Bucky over and over since they’d left, his messages weren't answered and his calls just rang through to Bucky's voicemail. Steve had the sinking feeling that Bucky wasn’t answering because he _couldn’t._ Either he was injured, just like Phil feared, or Steve’s bombshell of an announcement had made Bucky stop talking again. 

“Bucky!” Steve hollered into the night, straining his ears against the roar of the motor to try to hear something, _anything_ that might mean Bucky was trying to be found. But there was nothing. 

“How far down do you think he is?” Tony shouted into Steve’s ear. “We’ve gone at least half-way….”

“I don’t know,” Steve hollered back. “But he can’t have gone that far.”

“He runs pretty fast. Almost as fast as Legolas. Maybe he made it all the way—Whoa!”

The headlamps illuminated a rounded shape sitting on the trail and Steve squeezed the brakes. The ATV stopped so fast that Tony slammed into his back. 

Steve ignored Tony’s cry of pain as he jumped off the ATV and ran towards Bucky. He dropped to his knees beside him, putting his hands on Bucky’s shoulders. “Hey,” he said softly. “Hey Bucky, it’s me. You okay?”

In one motion, Bucky turned and threw himself into Steve's arms, holding him as tightly as he could. Steve hugged him back, leaning their heads together. He could feel Bucky trembling against him. He was impossibly, eerily silent. 

“Is he okay?” Tony was standing awkwardly in front of the ATV, deeply shadowed from the light of the headlamp. “Did he get hurt?”

“Are you hurt?” Steve asked Bucky. Bucky just shook his head, not lifting his face from the crook of Steve’s neck. He was still shaking.

“I don’t think so.” 

“Good,” Tony said, and then: “Bucky, can you talk?”

Bucky shook his head again but still didn’t look up. 

Steve closed his eyes against the sudden rush of pain. It had been so hard for Bucky to start talking after ten years of silence. He’d only had his voice back since February and now Steve had made him silent again. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered against Bucky’s ear. “I’m so sorry.” Bucky didn’t respond.

Tony moved closer, but still remained a respectful distance away, clearly unsure what to do with himself. “So, roadrunner. Can we offer you a ride home?” 

To Steve’s surprise, Bucky nodded, disentangled himself from Steve and stood up. 

“Great!” Tony said, clearly as surprised as Steve. “That’s great, Buckster! You, uh, wanna ride in front of Steve?”

Bucky didn’t respond. Instead he launched himself into Tony’s arms.

“Oh, wow.” Tony’s eyes were large and desperate as he looked at Steve over Bucky’s shoulder. “I totally like you too, buddy, and I’m very glad we found you. But your boyfriend’s right here?” Bucky didn’t move.

Steve shoved down the hot flare of jealously. It made sense that Bucky would be seeking comfort from Tony. The two of them had gotten close sharing a room before Tony and Steve left for university. They were friends and friends gave comfort. But Steve still turned away, using grabbing Bucky’s coat from where they’d left it in the trailer as an excuse. “You must be cold.” He draped it over Bucky’s shoulders. “Here.”

Bucky slowly let go of Tony and put his arms into the coat sleeves, huddling himself into it. He looked washed out and nearly grey in the harsh light of the ATV, like his flight into the woods had taken something vital out of him. 

Still with that eerie silence, he climbed into the trailer. 

“Don’t you want to ride…?” Tony gestured at the seat before giving up at Bucky’s non-response and climbing up after Steve. Steve started the motor and started driving. This far along it’d be faster for them to continue to where the trail met the road and just follow it all the way back to the farm. “I’m texting Phil to let him know we found him,” Tony said behind Steve’s head. He could see Tony leaning back to talk to Bucky out of the corner of his eye. “Anything you want me to add?” There was no answer. 

Steve grimaced, painfully aware of what he’d done. _At least I’m leaving,_ he thought. Even though it’d made Bucky upset, it was pretty obvious that going to the army was actually the best choice Steve could make. He’d hurt Bucky without meaning to. Who knew what he’d do if he stuck around? Bucky was doing fine until Steve came back from university, after all. It would be way better if he was gone for good. 

“He’ll be okay,” Tony said into Steve’s ear as if he was reading Steve’s thoughts.

“Sure,” Steve said. 

He headed the ATV forward into the darkness.

* * *

Clint and Phil were waiting for them in the living room when they got back. 

“Bucky!” Clint cried as soon as they stepped through the door. He pulled Bucky into a fierce hug which Bucky returned equally as vehemently. “Are you okay?” 

Bucky shook his head and bent to take off his shoes. Clint turned to look at Steve and Tony. “He’s not talking?”

“Nope. Snake Eyes is back, apparently,” Tony said, kicking off his shoes. 

Phil closed his eyes, bracing himself. He knew that Bucky had been horribly upset by Steve’s announcement, his running out was proof enough of that. But his sudden return to silence was even worse than Phil had thought. Saturday or no, Phil knew he’d be calling Sam in the morning. 

Clint turned to Steve. “Why not?”

Steve looked down with a half-shrug of his shoulder. 

“I’m sure Bucky has his reasons,” Phil said to them as they moved away from the door. “And we’ll be dealing with them in the morning. But this has been a difficult and emotional evening for all of us.” He was using his ‘cop voice,’ his no-nonsense tone that usually got even Tony to listen. “I’m sure the four of you are tired and I, for one, am exhausted. Therefore I’d like you all to go upstairs and get ready for bed, and to stay there until you fall asleep.”

“It’s barely nine o’clock!” Tony protested immediately. “That’s barely dinner time at university!”

“It’s actually nine forty-five,” Phil corrected. “And you’re on my time now.” He glared at Tony. 

Tony actually looked chagrined. “Well, I guess I could use a shower….”

“Good choice.” Phil looked at the other three boys. “Any additional comments?”

“I just put the horses to bed,” Clint said, his big eyes wide with distress. “I—I don’t think I did anything wrong?” 

Some of Phil’s anger dissipated with Clint’s words. Ever since last winter Clint had been working very hard to both ask for what he wanted and to stand up for himself. It was gratifying to see him do it now. 

“I appreciate you telling me how you feel,” Phil said gently, “But running away because Steve upset you wasn’t the right choice. Do you know why?”

“Because I could get lost, or hurt and it doesn’t solve anything,” Clint recited. Phil hoped one day he’d internalize those words and consistently stay put when things got emotionally difficult. He was getting better but he wasn’t nearly at one hundred percent. 

Phil sighed. “That’s right. And it’s been a long time since you’ve run away, but you still ran tonight instead of talking to Steve about what you were feeling. Next time, try to talk it out. It’s important.”

“Okay.” Clint looked at Steve and opened his mouth only to shut it again. He looked away.

“I’m sure it can wait until morning.” Phil let Clint off the hook. He wasn’t sure how Clint was feeling, but he knew he was too tired to try to mediate between Clint and Steve right now if they got into it. Steve didn't seem very receptive anyway. His jaw was clenched so hard he looked like he was going to crack a tooth. Bucky had very obviously hit his limit somewhere out on the trail. 

“I’m sorry my decision to join the army got everyone so upset,” Steve ground out. “But it’s my decision and I’m sticking with it and everyone’s just going to have to get used to it.” He turned and stomped up the stairs. 

Bucky was staring at his socks, his whole arm wrapped around his torso, practically vibrating with what he was leaving unspoken. 

“Well, that was definitive,” Tony said, watching Steve disappear. 

“Steve and I will definitely be talking about his decision in the morning,” Phil said. “But right now I want my living room to be a boy-free zone. Upstairs please. I’ll see you all in the morning.” 

The boys all filled out with satisfying haste. Clint gave Phil a brief hug before dashing up the stairs, and then Phil was finally, blissfully alone. He pulled out his phone and quickly sent Natasha a text to tell her that Bucky had been found, and ask her if she was going to sleep over at Pepper’s or actually come home, and if so, if she needed a drive.

He sagged down onto the couch, feeling every second of his age. He knew he’d eventually have to get up and call Sam, but right this second he was just going to close his eyes and pretend this disastrous day had never happened. 

Morning was going to come soon enough, after all, and with it a difficult conversation with Steve that most likely neither of them was going to like. 

“Five minutes,” he mumbled. He closed his eyes.

* * *

Clint and Bucky were sitting on Clint’s bed, not talking. 

Tony was taking a shower in the bathroom down the hall, and even though Tony and Bucky normally shared a room, Bucky had followed Clint to his room instead. 

Steve had shut the door on his own room in a way that meant that Clint wouldn’t knock even if you gave him a million bucks. Steve was really mad for getting a hard time about joining the army and Clint didn’t like it when people got mad.

Bucky was sitting on the bed, right arm wrapped around his knees and staring at nothing that Clint could figure out. The walls of Clint’s room were decorated with posters of animals and drawings that Steve had done for him, but as far as Clint could tell Bucky wasn’t looking at any of it. 

And he was being very, very quiet, like something bad would happen if he even breathed too loud. It was just like when Bucky first arrived.

Clint cleared his throat. “Hey, Bucky?”

Bucky glanced at him, but then went back to staring at the wall. 

Clint moved a bit closer so that their shoulders were touching. “Are you upset that Steve’s leaving? Because I know I am. I’m really sad that he’s leaving, and I’d totally understand if it made you upset, too.”

Bucky glanced at him again, a lightning-quick flash of his eyes followed by a sharp nod of his head. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Is that why you’re not talking?” Bucky nodded again and Clint nodded in response. “Thought so.”

They sat in silence for a bit while Clint figured out what he wanted to say. He tried to think how it’d feel if Natasha suddenly decided she was going to leave and he shivered. He couldn’t imagine anything worse than Natasha leaving him. 

“Hey. You know, if Natasha said she was gonna go and join the army, I think I’d say something to her.” 

Bucky shot him a look. 

“Not that you have to say anything to Steve!” Clint said quickly. “You don’t ever have to talk again if you don’t want. I’m just saying, that it might be hard for Steve to decide to stay if he doesn’t know that you care he’s leaving.” 

Bucky’s eyes narrowed dangerously. 

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Clint said desperately. Bucky was getting mad at him now, and Clint _hated_ people being mad at him . When he was a kid and his dad got mad, he got beaten. It was hard to remember that no one was going to hit him now, no matter how angry they got. But Natasha wanted him to be brave, and he knew Bucky needed to hear this. He took a deep breath and held it before exhaling slowly, just like Sam had taught him. It helped a little. “You do care that Steve wants to leave. I know you do.”

Bucky sighed silently and nodded his head, his gaze falling onto the bedcovers.

“You gotta tell him. It’s important.” 

Bucky didn’t look up.

“Okay,” Clint tried again. “I know that not talking feels better than talking sometimes. I know you feel safe when you don’t talk, because all the emotions stay inside. I mean, I used to do that, right? Just not tell anyone if stuff was bothering me because it was safer if I didn’t? But it didn’t really work, right? I mean, my dad still beat me even if I pretended to be happy all the time.” Clint smiled as he said it, but he knew it was fake. 

Bucky’s eyes were focussed on him now, and his expression held so much sympathy that Clint had to look away. 

“Anyway,” Clint mumbled, “not talking isn’t safe. Even though it feels safe, it isn’t. Well, at least that’s what I think.” He glanced up. Bucky was still looking at him. 

“Okay,” Bucky said. 

Clint beamed at him. “Okay.”

* * *

Tony walked back into his room from his shower, holding one towel around his waist and rubbing another one over his hair to dry it. He was relieved to see the room was empty. Even though he totally loved the Buckster, he’d gotten used to having his own space in the six weeks that he’d been in school, and he honestly preferred getting undressed and dressed without an audience.

Well, unless the audience was Pepper. In which case—

Tony exhaled noisily. He’d told Steve just that evening that he was going to fix things with Pepper, and he totally planned on doing that. 

He just didn’t know how.

She was so angry at him; so sure that she was right about Robert and he was wrong. Tony tossed the towel from his hair onto his bed, wincing as he aggravated the bruise across his shoulders. Well, she hadn’t been wrong about how hard he’d hit the stairs. 

But he was sure she was wrong about the rest of it. Yeah, Robert might have a temper, but so did Howard. Howard might not’ve _beat_ Tony or anything, but he had rage issues that tended to come out in bouts of yelling that could last hours. When he wasn’t ignoring Tony’s very existence, that was. 

Tony made a face. He hated thinking about his father. 

But Pepper was so sure she was right. Sure enough that she’d strongly intimated she’d break up with him if he wanted to be friends with Robert. Tony pressed his lips together as he thought about it, getting angry all over again. He’d spent his whole life being treated like an unwanted extension of his parents. He wasn’t going to let anyone tell him how to live his life ever again.

Even if it was the woman he loved most in the world. Even if it was the woman he planned to marry. He might’ve even picked out a ring already. Maybe. 

That was if she hadn’t actually broken up with him.

“Of course she hasn’t!” Tony said to himself as he combed his hair in the mirror hanging up by his closet. The thought was too awful for him to actually think about. It was an unthinkable thought and he wouldn’t think it. 

He just needed to figure out what he was going to do to fix things with her, without giving up his autonomy. Yeah, simple. 

He heard the door open and shut behind him. 

“If that’s you, Legolas, I’m going to go nudist in about two seconds,” Tony said without turning around. 

“I’d like to see that.”

Tony’s eyes widened and he whirled. “Pepper?”

She leaned against the closed door, dressed in jeans and what looked like one of her brother’s tee-shirts with a picture of Iron Man on it. She’d tied a knot in the hem. Her hair was back in a pony-tail and she looked wary and sad and so beautiful that for a moment Tony couldn’t speak. 

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi.” He couldn’t believe how rough his voice sounded. He swallowed. “I wasn’t expecting you. I was going to buy you flowers. Or muffins. I heard that muffins are really good apology gifts—”

She crossed the room in two big strides and held his face with both her hands, capturing his lips with her own. She kissed him deeply and with desperation, like he were the one planning on going off to war instead of Steve. He moved to put his hands in her hair, remembering the towel at the last second. Gently he broke the kiss. 

“Keep that up and I won’t need my hands to hold my towel.”

Pepper laughed but then stepped away. “Want me to leave so you can get dressed?”

“No!” Tony said, holding one hand out to stop her. “Just give me a sec?” Deftly he pulled his sleep pants up under his towel. Normally he wouldn’t mind being naked in front of her, but right now he didn’t know what was on her mind. And even though the kiss had been magnificent, he didn’t want to overstep her boundaries. He threw his second towel on the bed and turned to face her. “So.” 

“I like your pants,” she said. They were flannel pajama bottoms with a pattern of moose playing hockey that Pepper had gotten for him when her family visited Toronto. He may’ve chosen them on purpose.

“I like you,” he said, taking her hands in both of his. “I like you a lot.” 

Her smile was breathtaking. “I like you, too.” 

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. Please don’t break up with me.”

“I’m not going to break up with you!” she said with gratifying immediacy. “Oh my God, why would you think that?”

“Um, because you told me that you couldn’t keep fighting me to save my life?” Tony quoted. “That sounded pretty final.” 

Pepper sighed. “Sometimes I’m not terribly fond of your eidetic memory.” 

“I like it. But, break up? Or not? I prefer not if I get to choose but I don’t think I get to choose? My mother once told me that it was the woman—”

“Tony.” Pepper stopped him. “Tony I am _not_ breaking up with you. In fact, I am _never_ breaking up with you. I actually came here to tell you I was wrong and I’m sorry.” 

Tony blinked. “What?”

“I was wrong,” Pepper repeated. “You were right. I should never have tried to tell you who you could or couldn’t be friends with. I can tell you my opinion, but I can’t tell you what to do. Your life is your own. You were right.”

Tony blinked again. “I was right?”

“Of course you were right.” Pepper tilted her head. “Didn’t you know that?”

“Well, yeah, of course. I can be friends with who I want.” 

“Yes, you can.” Pepper squeezed his hands. “And, as hard as it'll be to see you hanging out with someone I think might do you harm, if you want to be friends with Robert, I won’t stand in your way.” 

“Oh.” Tony grinned. “That was easy.” 

“If you call a whole day of us not talking to each other easy!” Pepper wrapped her arms around him and buried her head against his neck. “I never want to fight like that again.” 

“Me neither.” Tony held her tightly. He closed his eyes, absorbing the feeling of her against his skin. She was wonderful and kind and intelligent and _perfect_ and he was never going to let her go. “I love you, Ms. Potts.” 

He could feel her smile against his collar bone. “I love you too, Mr. Stark.” 

“I am going to try to make friends with Robert,” Tony said into her hair.

“I know,” she sighed against his chest. “Can you at least tell me why? What about this guy moves you so much?”

Tony pictured Robert, remembering when he’d first started to notice him. He remembered seeing him in his biology lecture, and then in the library, and then behind the counter at that hipster off-campus coffee shop. It was like, once he started looking, he couldn’t _not_ see Robert. The guy was everywhere. Tony paused, trying to parse together the right words to help Pepper understand what it was that compelled him about the guy. Why it was that Tony couldn’t let it go, even though Robert had told him that they couldn’t be friends.

“It’s because he’s so alone,” Tony said finally. “I see him everywhere on campus, but I never see him _with_ anyone. He’s working or studying or sleeping, but he’s always by himself.” Tony chuffed out a laugh. “He kinda reminds me of me. The way I was at M.I.T., before Phil took me in.” He shrugged. “Maybe I just kinda wished someone there had worked harder to get to know me.” 

“Oh Tony,” Pepper breathed, and then she was kissing him again, like she was trying to pour all her love into his heart through his mouth. Tony responded in kind. His body reacted to the hot punch of desire, making him hard with her kisses alone. He ran his hands through her hair, dropping her elastic on the floor, then followed the clean lines of her back down and then up under her shirt. She had on too many clothes. He had on too many clothes. His fingers found the clasp of her bra and he started working on opening it.

“We can’t do this,” Pepper gasped. 

“Why not?” Tony gasped back. “We’re both consenting adults in a relationship of mutual love and respect. What’s stopping us?”

“The fact that we’re in Phil’s house, not our dorm room?” 

“Oh shit.” Tony immediately dropped his hands. It was like she’d dumped a bucket of cold water on his head.

“Don’t think I don’t want to,” Pepper practically moaned against his mouth, “but Phil’s like an uncle to me. I couldn’t imagine having sex—”

“Don’t say it! It’s even wrong if you say it!” Tony groaned, making Pepper laugh. He hugged her. She made him so happy. “I’m going to marry you one day, Ms. Potts,” he whispered.

“Not if I marry you first,” she whispered back.

* * *

It was three in the morning.

Bucky had lain in the second bed in Clint’s room for hours, trying to sleep.

Normally he’d be tossing and turning in the room he shared with Tony, but tonight he’d gone to Clint’s room, wanting to give Tony and Pepper some privacy. Clint was asleep, breathing softly, the gentle rise-and-fall of his chest barely visible in the faint illumination from the outside lights coming through the curtains.

God, Bucky missed Steve.

Bucky rolled onto his back and threw the remaining part of his left arm over his eyes. He remembered how scared he’d been in the forest, how it was like he was right back there, bleeding and in pain and covered in his sister’s blood—

Bucky shuddered and sat up. 

He’d felt okay when Steve had hugged him. He’d felt _safe_ for the first time in weeks. He’d hugged Steve back as hard as he could, trying to prolong the moment before Steve rejected him again. And then when it got too much, when he could feel how close he was to breaking, he’d gone to Tony instead. He loved Tony like a brother, but hugging him had really been an excuse to _not_ hug Steve when he still desperately wanted to.

But Steve didn’t want him anymore.

Bucky shuddered again, covering his eyes with his hand. He still couldn’t believe how much Steve leaving him to go to university had hurt. It was like losing his arm all over again, only this time there was nothing he could use to numb the pain.

Clint had told him he should talk to Steve. He’d said that Steve might decide to stay if he knew Bucky cared that he was leaving. _But Steve should know I don’t want him to join the army,_ Bucky thought. Just like Steve should’ve known he didn’t want him to go to away to university. But Steve had gone anyway, and then he’d stopped coming back home. And now he was going away for good.

And Bucky didn’t know what to do. 

_Not talking isn’t safe,_ Clint said. Bucky looked over to his roommate. Clint was still dead to the world, probably dreaming of the goodnight kiss Natasha had given him before she’d slipped off to her own room for bed.

It’d been a long time since Bucky kissed Steve.

He stood and ran his hand through his hair. He’d cut it short in March, after he and Steve started dating, because Steve seemed to like it. 

Because he loved Steve. He’d do anything for him. 

Bucky swallowed down a choked breath, keeping silent out of habit. He loved Steve; probably had since the moment Steve followed him into the stables the day he’d arrived. It felt like the words _I love you_ were climbing up his throat and banging against his teeth, wanting to be heard. 

Clint said Bucky should tell Steve how he felt. And maybe because it was just past three in the morning, but right that second Bucky couldn’t think of a single reason why he shouldn’t follow Clint’s advice.

He slid out of the room on silent feet, like a shadow.

* * *

Steve was woken by a kiss.

“Bucky?” 

Bucky nuzzled against his jaw in answer, straddling his hips and leaning over him until their chests were touching. Bucky kissed him again, soft but insistent, his tongue skimming over Steve’s bottom lip. 

“Bucky,” Steve sighed into his mouth as he opened to his boyfriend, letting Bucky’s tongue inside. Bucky deepened the kiss in response, turning it from something soft and sweet to something hard and demanding. He moved against Steve, their erections pressing together.

Bucky ran his hand up Steve’s back and cradled his head, kissing Steve like Steve’s mouth contained the last drop of water and he was dying of thirst. Steve kissed him back the same way. It had been so long since they’d kissed. He could feel every groove of Bucky’s muscles, every indent of his ribs and the delicate bones of his spine where they brushed against his fingertips. His cock was completely hard now, and the friction of Bucky’s movements was a blissful ache that Steve never, ever wanted to stop. 

Bucky started mouthing his neck, gentle, half nips with his teeth. Steve groaned, arching his hips upwards with the sensation. Bucky huffed a laugh out against his damp skin and moved lower, licking and kissing across Steve’s collarbone and down to his chest before fastening his lips over one of Steve’s nipples and sucking. 

Steve gasped, the sensation shooting straight down to his groin, increasing the aching tension. He could feel the front of his sleep-pants getting damp with his pre-cum. Bucky’s chuckle was almost too soft to hear as he moved to Steve’s other nipple and gave it the same attention.

Steve grasped Bucky’s hips, moving him in a vain attempt to get more contact. Bucky noticed and slid further down Steve’s body, leaving a trail of wet, sucking kisses. He stopped just above Steve’s waistband, looking up at him with those beautiful grey eyes, the question obvious.

“Yes,” Steve gulped, and then Bucky tugged Steve’s pants below his penis, and took him into his mouth.

Bucky was unskilled but he made up for it with determination and eagerness and it took all of Steve’s willpower to not just start thrusting into Bucky’s perfect mouth. Bucky’s tongue was sliding over the head of Steve’s cock, his lips tight to the shaft as he sucked, and suddenly Steve didn’t know what to do with his hands. He carded them through Bucky’s hair, then ghosted them over his shoulders, and finally grasped the sheets in tight fists. He felt like he was a kid again, during one of the rare times when he was well enough to go to Coney Island in the summer and ride the rollercoaster. It felt like he was on the train as it was slowly cranking its way to the top, step by creaky step, and then it finally reached the peak, and just when he thought he’d _die_ from the intensity of the anticipation, they’d tipped over—

“Bucky…” he moaned. He was _so close_. Bucky grinned at him, looking up through his lashes and, still sucking, started jacking Steve off with his hand. 

Steve’s hips jerked up as he cried out with the force of his orgasm. The world disappeared into pure, luxurious sensation. 

The next thing he was aware of was Bucky crawling up to lie mostly on top of him, wiping his mouth with his wrist and smiling like he’d just won the lottery. 

“That was amazing,” Steve said hoarsely. He felt relaxed and wonderfully spent. Sleep was tugging at him, pulling his eyes closed with a pleasant strength. “I’d like to return the favour though…”

“Later.” He could feel Bucky’s smile against his chest. 

“That was my first.” Steve stroked his hand along Bucky’s back. “I’m really glad it was you.” It felt important that Bucky knew that. 

“I love you,” Bucky whispered. 

_I love you too,_ Steve thought. He was already almost asleep.

* * *

Steve startled awake, Bucky’s name half formed on his lips. His heart was pounding. 

He lay there, gathering himself back from the abyss of the nightmare he’d tumbled into as soon as he closed his eyes. Something shifted beside him, and he started with a short cry. 

Bucky whimpered softly in his sleep. He was wedged in between Steve and the wall and didn’t look even remotely comfortable.

“Shhh. Go back to sleep.” Bucky’s frown smoothed out with his breathing and Steve sighed in relief. Carefully, so not to disturb Bucky further, he got out of the bed. Bucky immediately moved to claim the whole bed, stretching out and burrowing deeper into the blanket. It would’ve been endearing if Steve was in any headspace to appreciate it. 

But he’d dreamt that Bucky died—again.

It was the same dream he’d had the night he received Bucky’s text about school: his mother telling him she didn’t love him and that no one did, and then Bucky appearing just to tell him the same thing. Then the SUV came, hurtling down the road, and Steve could only watch helplessly as Bucky was smashed.

He scrubbed his face with his hands, realizing that they were shaking. His heart was still beating so fast Steve felt like he couldn't breathe. Like he was having an asthma attack for the first time since his mother’s funeral.

_Mom._ Steve thought hugged himself. He missed her so much. 

She’d died the same year he’d had surgery, an expensive operation to fix the heart defect that’d kept him sickly and small his whole childhood. It was the end of the same year she’d given him up to Child Protective Services to ensure he’d get the surgery because she couldn’t afford to pay for it. She’d given him up to save his life. 

Steve hadn’t wanted to go. He’d _begged_ her not to leave him. He’d wanted to stay with her even if it meant he’d never be better. But in the end he’d had no choice. 

And then she’d died.

_Bucky said he loved me._ Steve thought. His eyes flew to where his boyfriend was still sleeping easily in Steve’s bed with a soft smile on his face, like he hadn’t realized Steve was gone.

Steve scooped his backpack off the floor and shoved the few items he’d unpacked back into it. He threw on his tee-shirt from the day before and changed his sleep pants for underwear and jeans and was out the door between one minute and the next. 

His hands were still shaking.

* * *

“Tony?”

Tony groaned and flipped up a corner of his eye mask, looked at Steve and then lowered it back down. “You are not the type of blonde I like to wake up to.”

“Tony,” Steve said again. “Please.” 

There was something off about Steve’s voice. Tony removed his mask and sat up, eyeing his brother. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Steve said too quickly. 

“Bullshit,” Tony said flatly. “You’re shaking. I can see it.”

Steve put his hands behind his back like a little kid. “I’m fine.”

Tony rubbed his face and glanced at his Starkphone. His eyes widened. “Jesus Christ! Its four a. m.! Why are you awake at four a.m.? Why am I awake at four a.m.?” He flopped back down on his bed.

“I need a ride to the bus station.” 

Tony raised his head. “At four a.m.”

“Yes.” Steve adjusted the backpack on his shoulder. “I need to go back to New York.”

Tony sat up again. “You need to go back to New York. At four a.m.”

“Yes! Would I be in here asking otherwise?”

“Point.” Tony stood, weaving slightly on his feet. “I think I’m still asleep here. I am going to go pee and brush my teeth. Do not move until I return.”

Steve nodded and Tony shuffled to the bathroom and used the facilities. He washed his hands and scrubbed at his face with some water, feeling marginally more awake afterwards. The mint of the toothpaste helped too, and by the time he went back to his room he was feeling a bit more conscious.

Steve was still standing in the middle of his bedroom, just where Tony had left him. He had both hands on the one strap of his backpack looped around his shoulder, his fingers moving restlessly like he wanted to keep still but couldn’t. Steve was pale, his eyes shadowed with more than exhaustion. He looked sad and very un-Steve-like. Tony's heart plummeted. 

“Did you break up with Bucky?”

Steve looked like Tony had slapped him. “Why would you ask me that?”

“Because you look like someone ran over your dog, and since you don’t have a dog, there has to be something else that’s making you look that way. And since you and Bucky’ve been rocky lately—”

Steve opened his mouth like he was going to say something but he scrubbed his face instead. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“I don’t want to be awake at o’fucking early, but here I am.” Tony put his hands on his hips. 

‘I don’t want to do this now.” 

“Sorry,” Tony said sarcastically. “Is there a better time for me to pencil this in?”

“I just need a ride to the bus station!” Steve hissed. “Tony!”

“Steve!’ Tony echoed. 

“I don’t want to talk about it!”

“Okay, fine.” Tony rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to talk to me. Although I am the one you woke up in the middle of the night, just saying. But what about Phil? You should probably talk to him.”

“No. I can’t.” 

“Natasha?” Tony offered, “Clint? Pepper?” 

Steve had shook his head at all of them.

Tony threw up his hands. “Talk to Sam, then! God knows we’ve all got to do it on the regular anyway. You’ve probably got him on speed dial.”

“I can’t,” Steve repeated, eyes wide and pleading.

Tony blinked. He’d never seen Steve like this. Scared and like he was barely holding it together. A bad thought hit him and he winced at what he was about to ask. “Did Bucky… _do_ something to you?”

“No!” Steve looked horrified. “How could you think that?”

“Because you’re not telling me anything! What am I supposed to think?”

“Not that!” Steve said vehemently. “Bucky would never.” 

“So if Bucky didn’t ‘do anything’.” Tony quoted. “There’s really no reason for you to pull a Forrest Gump, is there?” 

Steve’s face totally closed off. “Never mind. I’ll walk.” He turned towards the door.

“Wait.” Tony grasped Steve’s arm. “It’s way too dark for you to walk. I’ll drive.” 

“It’s almost dawn. You can go back to sleep and forget any of this ever happened.” 

“The bus station’s like, a half-hour away!” Tony shook Steve’s arm for emphasis. “It’ll take you _hours_ to walk there.”

“If I leave now I’ll be there by mid-morning.” 

“No, you won’t. Because Phil will wonder where the fuck you’ve gone and then he’ll go out and track you down with his mad policing skills. You’ll be back by breakfast.”

“Only if you tell him.” 

Tony blinked. “Are you actually telling me to lie to Phil?”

“No!” Steve said. Then, “I don’t know!” His eyes were red rimmed, like he was on the verge of tears. “I just can’t stay here right now.” His voice cracked. “Please?”

It was the please that did it. Until that second Tony would’ve gone to his grave thinking that Steve would never beg for anything. He sighed. “Give me a sec to text Pepper.”

“Text Pepper?” Steve pretended he wasn't wiping his face on his sleeve 

“Because I can’t just drop you off at the bus station. Not when you’re like this—” Tony waved his hand around Steve in emphasis. “You’ll probably get on the wrong bus and end up in Canada. I need to tell Pepper that she’ll have to take the train back to New York.” He started scooping up all the stuff he’d taken from his dorm room and putting it into his bag before he just gave up and dropped it on his bed. He’d buy whatever he needed in New York. Easier.

“Why?” For such a smart guy, Steve could be really dumb sometimes. “Why does she have to take the train?”

“Because unless she wants to leave her parents’ place at four-fucking-thirty on a Saturday morning, she’s going to miss her window to ride back with me.” Tony was texting as he spoke. He side-eyed Steve as his thumbs moved over the keys. “You’re washing my dishes for a week, by the way. ‘Luminescent’ has an S and a C, right?” Steve was still gaping at him. “Never mind. AutoCorrect’s got my back.”

“You’re driving me to New York?” 

“Didn’t I just say that?” Tony pulled on a red slipper. “It’s not illegal to drive in these, is it? Because they’re really comfy.” 

“You don’t have to do that.” 

“Sure,” Tony drawled. “I’ll just let you go through whatever crisis this is by yourself while you’re walking to the bus station. ‘Kay? Yeah, that’s totally reasonable.” 

“I’m not having a crisis.” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “And yet here we are. Still leaving before dawn.”

“I just need some space.” 

Tony stopped in the middle of zipping up his hoodie. “I’m guessing Bucky doesn’t know you’re leaving?”

The downward cast of Steve’s eyes was answer enough.

“Okay,” Tony said, totally serious. “I don’t give a shit what you call this _thing_ you’re doing. But if you don’t leave some kind of note for Bucky telling him where you’ve gone—and why—I will personally wake Phil myself and you won’t get as far as the barn. Understand?” 

Steve nodded. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll leave a note.” 

“Good.” Tony grabbed his phone, keys and wallet off the desk and they went out into the dark hallway, making their way silently down the stairs. Steve immediately headed to the front door and Tony smacked him on the shoulder, hard enough to get him to turn around. Tony gestured emphatically at the kitchen counter, miming the movement of a pen. 

Steve’s lips thinned but he dutifully found a pen and paper and wrote something on it, leaving it in plain view on the table. He gave Tony a curt nod and they continued to the front door. Steve keyed in the alarm code and in the few seconds it gave before it re-set, they went out. 

The faint glow of morning was visible on the horizon, dulling the brilliance of the stars overhead. It was quiet and peaceful with a serenity that was impossible to find in the streets of New York, and Tony would’ve given just about anything to have been able to sleep through it. 

“C’mon, early bird,” Tony muttered. “You’ve got shotgun.” He slapped Steve on the shoulder on the way to the driver’s side of his car.

* * *

Bruce snapped awake to the sound of voices. 

He wiped the drool off his chin, instantly remembering where he was and why he was there. Quickly he pulled himself to his feet, leaning against the wall for balance. His foot was asleep. He turned awkwardly towards the voices, hoping that, whoever it was, they’d be okay with a stranger sleeping in their hallway. Or at least give him enough time for the blood to return to his foot before he had to run.

“…And coffee,” one of the people was saying as they turned the corner. “And one of those amazing banana chocolate-chip muffins that they sell at that hippie coffee shop by the Arts Quad. And you’re still doing my dishes for at _least_ —Robert? What the hell are you doing here?”

Bruce swallowed, suddenly feeling all the terror and helplessness of the few hours before crash down on him, mixed almost painfully with relief that Tony was finally there. “Tony?” his voice was shaky. “I need your help.”

The big blonde man who’d been walking with Tony was suddenly at his side, helping him balance his weight. “What’s wrong?” he asked with a calm sort of urgency. “Your foot—are you hurt?”

Bruce shook his head. “No. My foot’s just asleep.” He put some weight on it, wincing against the pins and needles. 

“That’s my brother, Steve, the one you didn’t want to meet,” Tony said with the sarcastic tone that Bruce was already very familiar with. But then his expression changed. “You said you need help?” He seemed to suddenly recognize that they were all in the hallway outside of Tony’s apartment. “Did you _sleep_ here?” 

“My brother’s sick,” Bruce said without preamble. “It’s bad. Really bad. Someone let me into the building, and when you didn’t answer my knocking I decided to wait for you. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Where is he?” Steve was looking down the hallway as if Pietro would appear out of nowhere. “Did you call 911?” 

“No,” Bruce said to Steve. “I—” he took a breath, realizing how much he couldn’t tell them. He turned back to Tony. “I was hoping you’d come look at him. See if you can help.” He also hoped that Pietro and Wanda would get over the fact that he’d brought _Tony Stark_ home to help them, but he’d have to deal with the consequences of that later. 

“What?”

“I’ve been waiting since after midnight,” Bruce explained frantically, if that would help Tony understand. “You’re really smart and I thought…” He trailed off. He’d come to Tony’s place because it’d made sense at one a.m. when Pietro was coughing so hard he could barely draw breath, but now that Tony was actually _there_ Bruce realized he hadn’t totally thought it through. 

“I’m not wetware smart. That’s Steve.” 

Bruce looked to Steve, but Steve shook his head. “I’ve only been in nursing school for six weeks. I know first aid but that’s about it. If your brother’s sick enough to bring you here in the middle of the night he probably needs a hospital.”

“I can’t,” Bruce blurted. The consequence of calling 911 to his address would be devastating. 

“It’s okay, I’ll pay for it.” Tony pulled out his phone. “Where are we sending the ambulance?”

“No!” Bruce knocked the phone out of Tony’s hands. Both Tony and Steve gaped at him. Bruce fisted his hands against his thighs. “No. You can’t call the ambulance. Please.” 

Tony blinked. He slowly crouched down to retrieve his phone from the floor. “But your brother—”

“Can’t you come look at him?” Bruce said desperately. He knew that it wasn’t the best idea, but he couldn’t imagine how bad it would be if the paramedics and firefighters and maybe _police_ showed up, and them finding out about Wanda and Pietro… “I’m sure you could help.”

Tony blinked again. “No I can’t. I’m not a doctor. Not even close.”

“Look,” Steve said in that same calm-but-urgent tone. “We get that your brother is sick, and we really want to help him, but we need an ambulance to do that. You need to let us call them.” 

“But—” Bruce tried. He ran his hands through his hair, tugging at it hard in an attempt to ground himself. He could feel his frustration rapidly shifting to anger. He really didn’t want to lose control, but they didn’t understand. They couldn’t unless he told them, and if he did, everything would be finished for him anyway. He was caught between a rock and a hard place where helping Pietro would destroy them all. He could feel the rage building, flooding white-hot through his veins. 

With an incoherent yell he slammed his fist into the wall. 

“Whoa!” Tony cried while Steve yelped. “What the fuck’re you doing?”

Bruce cradled his hand against his chest. His knuckles were bleeding and throbbing in a way that made him think he might’ve broken them. Again. He looked down at his hand and then up at Tony. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Just like you didn’t mean to push me down the stairs?” 

“Let me see.” Steve gently took Bruce’s damaged hand. Then what Tony said must’ve sunk in because he whipped his head around. “What?” 

Tony waved him off. “Later.” 

Steve shot Tony a look but his hands were still gentle on Bruce’s rapidly bruising knuckles. “You want us to help your brother, but we can’t involve 911?”

Bruce nodded, his throat painfully tight. 

“Okay. Here’s my idea. We’ll go to your place and check on your brother, and if it’s bad but not too bad, Tony’ll drive him to hospital. But if it’s bad, we’re calling an ambulance. Deal?”

Bruce closed his eyes as he nodded. Now he realized that coming here had only prolonged Pietro’s wait for help without really fixing anything. He’d betrayed Pietro by going to Tony Stark in the first place, and he still made everything worse.

“Glad that’s settled.” Tony pulled out his keys. He glanced at Bruce. “Robert,” he said softly, and it took Bruce a second to realize that Tony meant him. “You’re brother’s going to be okay, I promise.” 

Bruce nodded but he didn’t believe it. Nothing felt like it was going to be okay ever again.

* * *

Robert had taken them away from campus, ending up in a section of the borough where students had been warned against living.

Steve was on high alert as they made their way through the broken front door of the apartment, up five flights of creaking, unlit stairs that smelled of human waste and pot, to the apartment that Robert shared with his brother. It reminded Steve uncomfortably of the places he and his mother had been forced to live when he’d been young. He’d promised her memory that he’d never, ever go anywhere near a place like that again. And yet, here he was.

“It’s here,” Robert said as he opened the door. He was still cradling his hand against his chest. 

Tony went in first, craning his head around like a kid at the zoo, Steve following warily at his heels.

The apartment was a small room, cramped and uncomfortable. The one window looked out to the fire escape. It'd been nailed shut. The apartment smelled exactly how Steve would expect a too-small space with a sick person to smell: like illness and bleach. There was a cloth curtain strung up as a poor divider for the room and a mattress on the floor. 

A young women was kneeling on the floor by the mattress, supporting a young man as he coughed. He looked barely conscious, his eyes half-lidded and heavy. She turned sharply as they came in, her green eyes wide with apprehension. It was uncanny how similar they looked.

“Bruce?” She said. 

Tony whirled to look at Robert. “Bruce?”

Bruce licked his lips. “My middle name is Bruce,” he said as if that was any kind of explanation. “My first name is Robert.” 

“But no one calls you that.” Tony crossed his arms. “Except for people you lie to about your actual name.”

“I didn’t lie—” 

“Bruce!” The young woman gently laid the boy back on the mattress and stood. “Who are these people?” She had an accent when she spoke that made her sound vaguely like Natasha when she was upset. 

“They’re, uh…”

“We’re friends,” Tony interjected, still looking piercingly at Bruce. “Of Bruce and not Robert. Apparently.” Tony turned to the woman. “You’re not Bruce’s brother.” 

“He’s on the mattress,” Bruce said. “This is Wanda, my sister.” 

“And the surprises keep coming.” Tony tilted his head. “I probably should have asked this before. Like, way before. But where are your parents?”

The horrified look that Wanda and Bruce exchanged was answer enough. 

“So,” Tony said, rocking on his heels. “No parents. What’re you guys then? The poorer version of Batman?”

“Quit it,” Steve said to Tony. “Let’s do what we came here for. We can deal with all this later.” He went to Wanda. “I’m Steve,” he said softly, keeping his hands in view. He could see how scared she was. “Bruce brought Tony and me here to check up on your brother.” 

She didn't move. “Are you a doctor?”

“He’s a nurse,” Tony said as he came to Steve’s side. He elbowed Steve in the ribs when Steve tried to disagree. 

“Please, Wanda,” Bruce said. “They’re not going to hurt him.” 

She bit her lip but nodded and Steve knelt by the young man’s side. 

“His name’s Pietro.” Wanda knelt beside him, brushing her hand across Pietro’s forehead. Her smile was full of pain. “He’s my twin.” So that explained their strong resemblance to each other, which Bruce didn’t actually share. It was obvious that there was way more to the situation than Bruce was letting on. But they’d been brought there to help a very sick child. Everything else could wait.

Steve might’ve only had six weeks of nursing school behind him, but it didn’t take a ton of learning for him to know that Pietro was extremely sick. He looked awful, pale and drawn with deep shadows under his eyes, still coughing although he seemed to be asleep. Steve could feel the heat from Pietro’s skin even before he touched his wrist for his pulse. He was alarmed to find that it was weak and thready and beating far too fast. Pietro was breathing rapidly too, and even without a stethoscope Steve could hear the way the air was getting caught up in the fluid in his chest; how much energy it was taking for Pietro to get oxygen into his lungs. His hands were mottled and cool to touch. 

Steve looked up. “It’s bad.” Steve winced internally at Wanda’s horrified gasp. “I think he’s going septic. We need to get him to hospital now.” 

Wanda said something in a language that Steve didn’t recognize, her hands over her mouth. Her eyes welled up with tears. 

Tony looked at Pietro and then at Steve. “Are we going to carry him to my car?”

“We’re not taking your car. He needs an ambulance.” Steve kept his hand on Pietro’s chest, worried that he might just stop breathing right in front of them. 

“Okay then,” Tony said as he pulled out his phone. He raised his eyebrows at Bruce. “Address?”

Wanda clutched Bruce’s arm, obviously terrified. Bruce rattled off his address for Tony, who gave it to 911 . 

“You run before they arrive,” she said to him in a whisper that Steve couldn’t help but overhear. 

Bruce shook his head. “I’ll give them false names, like before.” he whispered back. “It’ll be fine.” 

“E.T.A. seven minutes,” Tony said, phone still pressed to his ear. He eyed Wanda and Bruce. “One of you want to go downstairs to wait for them?”

“I’ll go,” Bruce said. 

“I’ll go with,” Tony said. “I’m not sure what direction they’ll be coming from.” 

“I’m not going to run,” Bruce said quietly. He was looking at Wanda as he said it. 

“I didn’t say you were,” Tony said, equally as quietly. “I just thought you might like some support.” He squeezed Bruce’s shoulder for emphasis.

Steve knew that by ‘support,’ Tony was offering his last name. Bruce clearly had something to hide, and having a Stark around to be flashy and distracting would certainly take the focus off Bruce. It was actually a really nice gesture on Tony’s part, unexpectedly so, considering that Bruce had lied to Tony, and if he heard correctly, maybe even pushed Tony down some stairs. 

Bruce and Tony left, and Steve turned his attention back to Pietro. The young man’s eyes were still closed, his breathing still far too noisy and far too rapid. There was a slight bluish tinge to his lips that Steve really didn’t like. He hoped the ambulance would be there soon.

“Is he going to die?” 

Steve looked up at Wanda where she was standing beside him. She folded her legs and half-knelt, half-sat on the bed on Pietro’s other side and started brushing the unnaturally white hair off his forehead. 

“He’s the only blood family I have left,” she said in her strange accent. She was smiling down at her brother as she said it, her expression full of sorrow. “I don’t know how I would survive without him.”

Her pain reminded him too closely of what he felt like when he lost his mother. _You’ll survive,_ he wanted to say. _You’ll find a way to keep going, even when the only thing you want to do is die beside him._ Instead he said: “He’s not going to die.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No,” Steve admitted. “I guess I don’t.” He lifted Pietro’s wrist again, feeling for his pulse. It was weak and rapid but still there. He flicked his eyes to her, and she raised her eyes to his as if she felt his gaze. “But he’s not going to die. I promise.”

It was a ridiculous thing for him to say. He couldn’t promise Wanda that Pietro would live. It was as empty as the prayers he’d made to keep his mother alive. As useless as the way he’d begged her not to leave him. 

But Wanda was looking at him with her green eyes full of a wary kind of hope. Her mouth curved up in a small smile. 

“He’s not going to die,” Steve repeated just as the paramedics came through the door with their stretcher, Tony and Bruce right behind them.

* * *

_Dear All,_

_I’ve decided I need to return to New York as soon as possible to start the process of applying for the army. Tony has kindly offered to drive me there which is why we’re both absent._

_I don’t know when I’ll be coming back as I’ll have a lot to do between now and when I leave for basic. If all goes well, I should be receiving my orders sometime in the spring._

_I know that my decision has upset you, and for that I’m sorry. But it’s the right thing for me to do. I hope you can understand that, and if not understand, at least respect my choice._

_Yours,_

_Steve._

“Okay,” Sam said carefully on the other end of the phone. “I can see why you’re upset.”

“Upset?” Phil railed at him, “I’m furious! I can’t _remember_ a time I’ve been this angry!”

“I hear that,” Sam said. “And I know Steve is particularly good at evoking strong emotions.”

“You’re not kidding.” Phil paced back and forth in front of the desk in his study, far too agitated to even think of sitting down. He’d come back from his run early that morning and found Steve’s note. He’d immediately wanted to call Steve and give him holy hell for leaving but he’d recognized that he was far too angry. And then Clint and Bucky had come down the stairs and seen the note too, and he’d ended up not being able to call Sam until well after eight in the morning, which probably wasn’t such a bad thing. It was the counsellor’s weekend, after all. 

“Speaking of strong emotions,” Sam continued, “how are the other kids dealing with Steve’s leaving like that?”

“It’s been a rough morning.” 

“Sounds like that might be an understatement.” 

“You have no idea. Bucky told me he woke up to find Steve gone. And then Tony was missing too. Bucky then woke up Clint, who was in his room, but when he and Bucky couldn’t immediately find Natasha, Clint had a panic attack. She’d gone to the barn to take care of the horses, but Clint didn’t know that. Apparently asking me was not part of the equation.”

“That sounds really difficult,” Sam said.

“It took me over an hour to help Clint calm down. And that was even with Natasha back in the house. And then Bucky…”

“What happened there?” 

“He read Steve’s note and went up to his room and hasn’t re-emerged. I know I need to go talk to him, but I can’t do it yet. I’m still too mad.”

“Wait,” Sam sounded confused. “Are you mad at Bucky?”

Phil took a breath to answer, but then paused. “I didn’t think so until right this second.”

“So why are you mad at Bucky? Do you think he had something to do with Steve leaving?”

“Bucky hasn’t really been communicating with Steve. Steve’s been trying, but Bucky’s been very withdrawn and passive ever since Steve left. Maybe Steve got fed up.”

“Sounds like Bucky’s been triggered,” Sam said thoughtfully. “Like Clint when he thought Natasha was gone. Maybe Steve going to school’s been harder on Bucky then we all realized.”

“Why would that be a problem? Steve’s only in New York! And he comes home on the weekend. How would that be a trigger?”

“I don’t know. But then again, my entire family wasn’t dead by the time I was six.”

Phil let out a long exhale, his head dropping. “So Bucky’s feeling abandoned and he’s acting out.”

“I didn’t say that, but it’s a possibility.”

“Damn it. Bucky’s been hurting and I didn’t even realize.” Phil sighed. “I really don’t do very well by that boy.” 

“You’re only human,” Sam said soothingly. “And Bucky’s not the most talkative of kids. It might be easy to miss.” 

“But what’s going on with Steve then? He was so excited to go to nursing school, and he seemed happy enough to be living with Pepper and Tony at university. Why this sudden change?”

“Hard to say. It would make sense to me that Steve would be just as reactive to Bucky’s emotional distance as Bucky’s being to Steve’s physical one. Maybe Steve’s running off to the military is just an extreme example of that.”

Phil paused, taking in Sam’s words. He’d been so angry at Steve for his incomprehensible choice to leave school to become a soldier. But now, with Sam’s suggestion, Steve’s actions were beginning to make sense. If Steve were being triggered by Bucky, choosing the military was probably not really a choice at all. “Bucky recently decided he was going to stay here for school and not go to New York,” Phil added. “I’m sure that can’t have helped.”

“And suddenly Steve’s choice makes so much more sense.” 

“How wonderful that we’ve solved their issues in their absence,” Phil said sardonically. “Unfortunately this really doesn’t fix anything.”

“Except you probably aren’t as ready to kill Steve as you were before you called?” Phil could hear the smile in Sam’s voice. 

Phil huffed out a laugh. “No. My murderous urge has waned.”

“Then my job here is done.” Sam chuckled. “Damn, I’m good!” 

“Except that Bucky needs support and Clint needs a debrief. I know it’s the weekend…” Phil winced, knowing what he was asking. 

“Can’t think of a better way to spend my Saturday,” Sam sighed down the phone. “I hope my visit today will eventually involve a beer.” 

Phil smiled. “I’m sure that can happen.” 

“Great. I’ve got some errands to run this morning. It’s okay if I show up around two?”

“Perfect. And since you’ll probably end up here over dinner, do you want steak or chicken with your beer?” 

“I’m easy. But steak is better.”

Phil laughed, relieved to realize how Sam had managed to help him drop all his anger in one conversation. “I really don’t pay you enough.”

“Probably not,” Sam said easily. “But feel free to fix that anytime.”

Phil laughed again and was just about to answer back when his cell beeped in his ear. “Hold on, it’s Tony,” he said to Sam, a note of surprise in his voice. “I’m going to have to let you go.”

* * *

The paramedics would take only one other person beside Pietro with them in the ambulance. As soon as the paramedics had hustled Wanda and Pietro into the ambulance and taken off, Tony had immediately driven the three of them to the hospital. Part of Bruce wanted to refuse Tony’s generosity. He’d already done more than enough for Bruce’s makeshift family, especially given how Bruce had lied and physically assaulted him. But Bruce didn't refuse. All that he wanted was to be with his sister and make sure his brother was going to be okay. 

Tony pulled into the underground parking and turned off the motor, but made no move to get out. “So,” he said, turning to face Bruce who was sitting in the passenger seat. “What’s our story here?”

Bruce blinked. “What?” 

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You and Wanda and Pedro—”

“—Pietro,” Steve corrected him from the back seat.

“—and Pietro are about as biologically related as me and Steve. And while I could be wrong about this, your living arrangements didn’t seem to include anyone who would be legally considered an ‘adult’.” He made air-quotes around the word. “So, even though the three of you have obviously been playing house for a while, I’m not sure the hospital is going to see it that way. So, what’s our story?”

“Pietro broke his wrist back in the summer,” Bruce said stiffly. “And we managed just fine with the hospital staff then.” He put his hand on the door latch, intending to leave.

“You made up names for everyone.” Steve leaned between the front seats to speak directly to Bruce. Bruce’s shock must have shown on his face because Steve’s expression turned apologetic. “I overheard you and Wanda talking about it.”

“Well, it worked before. ’m sure it will work again. So thanks for your help but….”

“Okay, _Robert,_ “ Tony said sarcastically. “That little dodge and weave with your first-versus-middle-name lasted for about as long as it took for Wanda to blow your cover. Does she even know what alias you intend to use this time?”

Bruce opened his mouth to reply and then shut it again. Tony was right. He hadn’t had a chance to discuss it with her. He actually had no idea what name she’d give the hospital. 

“How old are Wanda and Pietro?” Steve asked quietly. “Because to me they look around the same age as our sister Natasha.”

“Natasha’s fifteen,” Tony added. 

Bruce swallowed. “The twins turn sixteen in February.” 

Tony winced. “That’s kind of bad. They’re not allowed to be on their own at fifteen.” 

“New York State actually says it’s illegal for anyone to be on their own if they’re under eighteen years old,” Steve said. “It’s also illegal for anyone who’s not a parent or a guardian to take in someone under eighteen unless it’s been okayed by CPS.”

Tony titled his head at Steve. “How the hell do you know that?”

Steve’s face coloured. “I wanted to know my options after my mom put me in foster care.” His expression grew sad. “There weren’t any.” 

“And that’s because being a runaway is a big no-no in New York State.” Tony looked sympathetically at Steve. “I might’ve done the same research after my folks died.” 

“We’re not doing anything wrong,” Bruce said. “I’ve read those laws too. I’m keeping a household. We’re fine.”

“I’m not sure CPS would agree with you,” Steve said gently. “Your apartment isn’t really the best. And if the hospital staff find out that Wanda and Pietro—and you—don’t have a legal guardian, CPS will definitely be called. They won’t have any choice.”

The anger welled up so fast that Bruce didn’t even try to control it. “You don’t think I know that? You think I have _no idea_ about Child Protective Services and what happens to runaways? You think I’ve been forcing the twins to live in that—that _hovel_ because I enjoy it?”

“Whoa, big guy.” Tony put his hands up placatingly. “Let’s not go all rage monster here. Okay? We’re trying to fix problems. Not make them.”

“Easy.” Bruce felt a gentle tugging and looked down to see Steve holding his injured hand in both his own. It was throbbing again, the scabs on the knuckles red with fresh blood. “You kinda punched the dashboard. Probably not a good idea since I think your hand is already broken.”

Bruce looked over at the dash. There was indeed a smear of blood across the plastic and one of the vents was caved in. He looked at Tony, wide-eyed. 

“I’m beginning to think you might have anger management issues,” Tony said wryly. 

“I—I’m so sorry.” Bruce's faced burned with shame. He’d been so good about not losing his temper since that day, and yet within hours of meeting Tony all his calm had disappeared. He was more out-of-control now than he’d been since he’d met the twins, and ended up destroying everything.

Tony waved him off. “I needed some detailing done anyway. But we totally need to figure this out.”

“What if you and Tony said you were brothers?” Steve said. “I mean, the resemblance between the two of you is really remarkable.”

Bruce looked at Tony, considering Steve’s words. He hadn’t thought about it before, but now that Steve said it, he could see where he was coming from. He and Tony had the same colouring, the same shape to their faces, and they were even the same height. If someone didn’t know that they’d both been only children, it would be an honest mistake to think they were related. 

Tony made a face at Steve. “We don’t look anything alike.” 

“We’re too close in age,” Bruce added, although he agreed with Steve that they did have a lot of similar features. “Tony and I were born in May and December of the same year.” 

“How’d you know when I was born?” 

Steve rolled his eyes. “You’re famous, remember? Everyone knows when you were born.”

“Oh, yeah. I keep forgetting what a big deal I am. And Bruce’s right. The only way we could be brothers is if my dad had an affair with Bruce’s mom while my mom was pregnant. And even my dad’s not low enough to do that.”

“My mom wouldn’t have been in the same social circles as Howard Stark,” Bruce agreed. “There’s no way they could’ve even met.”

“But even if my dad were a worse philanderer than he actually was, how would Bruce being my half-brother even help?” Tony asked. “It’s Wanda and Pietro that he needs to be related to. Not me.”

“It was just an idea,” Steve muttered. “I just thought Bruce being a part of the Stark family would give him protection. That’s all.” 

“I really don’t think that would work.” The fact that Tony was actually _Tony Stark_ hadn’t come up when Tony had first met the twins, and if Bruce was very lucky, he’d be able to get through this without the twins ever knowing that he’d asked a loathed Stark for help. He hated lying to them, but it was better than how horrified they’d be if they ever learned the truth. “We have to think of something else.”

“I think Steve already has,” Tony said. “Bruce and his siblings need a family—well they _are_ a family—but they need one that includes parents. Or at least one parent. Perhaps a parent who is already trusted and well-loved by CPS.”

Steve’s grin was enormous. “I think I know a guy like that.”

“What?” Bruce looked between Steve and Tony. “Who?”

Steve was still grinning. “Our dad.” 

“Who I am going to call right now. He’ll help us. I know it.” Tony reached into his jacket pocket, glancing down at himself as he did so. He paused. “Did anyone else realize that I’m still in my pajamas?” 

“You’re also wearing slippers,” Steve mentioned helpfully. 

“Well fuck me sideways,” Tony muttered. He dialed his phone. 

“I’d really like to go check on Pietro,” Bruce said. 

“We should really get your hand looked at, too.” Steve said. 

“Okay.” Bruce nodded. His hand really hurt, and the reality that he’d have to walk into the hospital and once again put Wanda and Pietro at risk of discovery was really sinking in. 

Steve gently grasped his arm. “It’ll be okay. You’re not alone anymore.” 

Bruce nodded again. His throat suddenly too tight to speak. 

“Hey, Dad?” Tony said into the phone. “I know you’re mad, but before you get all screamy and poppa-bear and everything, we could really use your help.”

* * *

Wanda jumped up as soon as the three of them walked into the waiting room of the ICU. 

“Bruce!” she cried as she ran into his arms, “they’ve taken Pietro away to a room and they won’t let me stay with him. Where have you been?”

“I’m sorry.” Bruce patted her back awkwardly with his cast. “We came through the emerg and they wouldn’t let me up until they looked at my hand.” 

Wanda drew back, looking for his injury. “What’s wrong with your hand?”

“I broke it.” He held up his arm, showing her the fibreglass cast in a military camouflage pattern that covered him from his second joint to just past his wrist. Tony had chosen the pattern for Bruce, pulling rank because he was paying. He’d made a point to look at Steve the entire time it was being put on because, well, Steve was a dick who wanted to join the army. Damn right Tony was going to rub it in any chance he got.

She frowned at him. “When did you do that?”

Bruce looked over at Steve and Tony, desperation clear on his face. Apparently Bruce kept secrets from everyone, and he didn’t want Wanda to know about his rage smashing the defenceless wall in the residence. Tony could get behind that. 

“He caught it in a door,” Tony lied easily as he came further into the room. “Didn’t want to mention it before Pietro was taken care of.” He grinned at Bruce, who smiled back tentatively. Score one for team Bruce-Tony friendship.

“How is he?” Steve asked. 

Wanda eyed Tony and Steve and her expression shuttered. She looked at Bruce. “What are they doing here?”

“Uh. Tony and Steve were helping us, remember?” Bruce held one of her hands in his uncasted one. “They’re friends Wanda, I promise.”

“Okay,” she said softly, still eyeing them with big doe eyes that reminded Tony of Clint. 

“How’s he doing?” Bruce asked.

“I don’t know,” she said unhappily. “They put one of those tubes in his mouth?” 

“An intubation tube,” Steve supplied with his mad medical skills. “It’s to help him breathe.” 

Wanda nodded. “That’s the word they used.” She turned back to Bruce. “They gave him an IV and said they were going to start some medicine. But I should wait here for the doctor.” Her face crumpled. “I’ve been here a long time.”

Bruce pulled her into his arms and she clung to him, crying softly. Bruce held her tightly, looking like he was close to tears himself. And that sucked. Tony didn’t do _feelings_. 

“Hey,” Tony said brightly. “It’s nearly lunch time, and I only had a crappy drive-through bagel and a coffee for breakfast. Anyone else want food?” Food was a good distraction. Everyone needed to eat, right? Even really small teenage girls and their not-so-related brothers. 

Wanda let go of Bruce and wiped her eyes, shaking her head. Bruce shrugged at Tony. “We’re fine?” 

Tony barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. Sure they weren’t hungry. “Right, pizza it is.” Tony pulled up a number on his phone. “They’ll deliver here. Any allergies? Dietary restrictions? No one’s a vegan or anything are they?” 

Bruce bit his lip. “Wanda and I are vegetarians?”

Tony glared at him. “That’s unnatural.” He hit call and then moved to the back of the room to complete the order. He watched distractedly as Wanda sagged down into one of the couches in the waiting room. They were made of a wipe-down fabric and were hardly comfortable but she practically collapsed into it, curling up in one corner. 

“Maybe I will eat,” she said.

Tony grinned to himself as he placed their order, getting a couple of large vegetarian pizzas. He normally liked meat on his, but he knew Steve wasn’t picky and he wanted to be sure Bruce and Wanda saw there was enough food . He would’ve bet his Audi RS 7 that neither one of them would eat if they thought that it’d mean that someone else would go without. 

He saw Bruce looking at Steve helplessly as he asked “Why is he so nice?” and he smirked. He wasn’t nice, he was just practical. It made sense for people to eat in times of crisis. Food was fuel, and fuel was important when people were stressed. Or something like that. 

“Tony’s always nice like this.” Tony actually paused in confirming his order with the pizza place. He hadn’t realized that Steve had noticed him doing practical stuff like this. And Steve’s tone was…pleasant, like it made him happy that Tony did stuff like buy them food or drive to New York. Tony found himself smiling, oddly touched by Steve’s words. 

Tony finished up the call and turned back towards everyone, about to announce the ETA of their yummies, when the door opened and a doctor came in. He was tall and thin with wire-rimmed glasses. His dark hair had dignified white streaks at the temples. He looked disapproving and overly stiff, and Tony schooled his face away from the developing frown. He kind of recognized the doctor from hanging out at the hospital when he’d been young and his parents had dragged him to some fundraising thing or another. If he remembered right, the doctor was good at his job but kind of a dick. 

“Ms. Maximoff?” The doctor went to where Wanda was sitting. She immediately stood and went to Bruce, clutching his arm. 

“Yes?” Even that one word sounded small and fearful and Tony’s heart kind of broke for her. He went closer to the group.

“I’m Doctor Richards.” He took in the extra three people in the room and raised one expressive eyebrow and directed his next question at Tony, Steve and Bruce. “I’m sorry. Who are you?” 

Tony frowned. He knew Dr. Richards recognized him. The ass. 

“This is my brother,” Wanda gripped Bruce’s arm tighter. “The other two are his friends.”

“Oh.” The doctor's gaze was still bouncing between Steve and Tony, probably trying to figure out why Tony was there and if it was some sort of test. “Is it okay for them to hear this?”

Wanda looked at Bruce and he answered. “I’m okay with it.”

“Alright, then. Your brother is very sick,” Dr. Richards said bluntly. “He has bacterial pneumonia in both his lungs and we think it may have gotten into his bloodstream.” 

Tony glanced at Steve, who really didn’t look happy that his call of Pietro being septic had been correct. It just proved to Tony—yet again—that Steve should never, ever become a soldier and just stay a nurse, which he was obviously super good at. But Tony was only a teenage, (former) playboy, billionaire genius. What did he know?

“We’ve started him on some very strong IV antibiotics. And we’ve intubated him and sedated him to take some of the strain off his lungs and make him more comfortable. He’s stable right now and we’re optimistic that he’s going to get through this, but we won’t know for sure for the next few hours.” He was speaking to Wanda but his gaze kept drifting to Tony as he spoke, which really made Tony want to roll his eyes. “Because he’s so sick we need to keep him as quiet as possible, so no visitors until we know more.” 

“Can I see him?” Wanda hadn’t absorbed anything the doctor said, because he was talking like a pompous asshole and she was scared. But trust Dr. Richards to not notice shit like that. 

Dr. Richards frowned. “As I said, you’re brother’s too sick for visitors right now. Hopefully in a few hours.”

Wanda nodded, but she burrowed her face against Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce put his hand on the back of her head. He looked imploringly at the doctor. “Please, can’t she just go see him?”

“It’s really not recommended….”

Tony had enough. “C’mon, Doc,” he said as he stepped forward. “She’s small and quiet, you know she won’t get in the way. And it will probably make Pietro feel better just knowing she’s there. Or sensing? He’ll be able to hear her though, right? Unconscious people can hear? Anyway, just let her in.”

“That may seem like a good idea, Mr. Stark,” Dr. Richards said, looking even more disapproving. “But it’s not. What Mr. Maximoff needs right now—”

Wanda’s head snapped up. “What did you just call him?”

Bruce shot Tony a panicked gaze for no reason Tony could figure out. “It’s okay, Wanda,” Bruce said quickly. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is—”

“This is Antony Stark,” Dr. Richards said with obvious confusion. “His family built this hospital. I thought you said he was a friend of your brother’s?”

“ _Tony Stark?_ “ Wanda shouted as she pushed away from Bruce. Suddenly Tony remembered the short conversation he’d had with Bruce in the lecture hall, where Bruce insisted they could never be friends because of his family. Tony was beginning to think Bruce might’ve had a good reason for saying that. “You’re friends with _Tony Stark?_ “

“It’s not what you think,” Bruce said desperately. “He wants to help—”

“Like how he helped when he destroyed my village?” Wanda’s voice got louder with every word. “Like how he helped to kill my parents? How could you, Bruce? _How could you?_ “ On the last word she shoved Bruce hard enough to make him stumble back. “ _I HATE YOU!_ “ she screamed and bolted from the room.

“Well that was unpleasant, but not entirely unexpected for a young woman under these circumstances,” Dr. Richards said with a frown. “I’m sorry that happened, but I need to get back to my patients. Should I alert security?”

“No!” Bruce practically shouted. “No, please. We’ll handle it.” 

“Al right,” the doctor responded with a firm nod. “I should be back in a few hours with more news.” He turned neatly and left. 

“Well, that was interesting,” Tony said bemusedly. “I’m guessing _that’s_ the reason why you said we couldn’t be besties?” 

“Part of it,” Bruce said distractedly. He bit his lip, looking at the slowly closing door. “I need to go after her.”

“She just left. I think she’s got a lot of feels right now. Let her calm down.”

“I think Tony’s right,” Steve said. “She was really upset. Give her some time.”

“But you saw how distressed she was. And the hospital’s really big.” Bruce was still watching the door. “And she’s never been here before. I’m going to go after her.”

“You can’t,” Tony said. “That’ll only leave me and Steve here and we’re not related to Pietro. What if a doctor comes in to tell you something? Or something happens? You have to be here.”  


“I’ll go,” Steve said. 

Bruce’s grateful look was almost painful in its intensity. “Thank you.”

“Good luck with your quest to find angry bird,” Tony said to Steve. “I’ll text you when the pizza gets here. Or dad arrives. Whichever comes first.” 

“Wish me luck.” Steve saluted and went out the door.

“None of that army shit, Rogers!” Tony called after him. “No one’s interested in that!” Tony turned his attention back to Bruce. “So. Your siblings hate me.” It was amazing how uncomfortable it was to say those words out loud. 

Bruce bit his lip. “It’s kind of a long story?” 

Tony flopped down on one of the bad couches, spreading out his arms over the back. “We got time.”

* * *

There was no sign of Wanda in the hallway. 

Steve stood, back to the waiting room door as he checked up and down the corridor for a small, dark-haired and very angry girl.

As he suspected, there was no indication of which way she went. He sighed. “Can’t ever be easy.” He decided to go right, just because. 

He found her around the next corner, sitting on the wide windowsills designed for that purpose. Her arms were wrapped around her shins, her forehead pressed against her knees. She looked young and vulnerable, and Steve ached inside as he watched her. She seemed terribly alone. 

Outside, a slow autumn rain was falling. The drops hit the window in silent patterns before running down and blending together behind her huddled form. The sky was a light grey, nearly the same colour as Bucky’s eyes, and Steve felt a pang of longing for him so strong that he had to take a moment to compose himself.

“Hey,” he said softly.

She looked up at him, her eyes red-rimmed and angry. “Go away.”

Steve leaned against the edge of the window frame, watching her as she tucked herself back into a ball. He remembered the night that Bucky arrived and how difficult it’d been. Tony had been upset about Bucky not speaking and had started yelling during dinner. Bucky immediately fled to the barn, and Steve had found him there a few minutes later, scared and trembling like a frightened animal.

Right now, Wanda was reminding him of that. She was angry, sure. But there was fear under it, and probably sadness too, if her shouting about her parents dying was any sort of clue. It’d been the same with Bucky. He’d been overwhelmed and terrified when Steve found him, holding onto one of the horses, eyes-closed and quivering. Steve had let Bucky know he was there, and then just waited for Bucky to feel ready to face the world again. It hadn’t taken very long until Bucky was ready to come back inside. 

It had worked with Bucky, so Steve sat down on the windowsill. He crossed his arms and rested his temple against the glass, staring out into the rain. 

Wanda didn’t speak again, and Steve just stayed there, letting the rain mesmerize him. He thought of how cold it would be outside, how unpleasant in the wet weather. It’d been sunny when he’d let his mother’s ashes blow away from Steeplechase Pier. He remembered how much he’d hated the weather then, how unfair it had seemed that so many people were out enjoying the sunshine when his mother was dead.

But it’d been wet and cold like today was when his mother had left him with CPS. And somehow when he remembered that year, it was that day when she left him that he thought of with the most pain. Like a funeral before the funeral.

He cleared his throat. “I know what it feels like to be betrayed.” He kept his gaze fastened on the rain as he spoke. “When the person you love most in the world does something you’d never believed they’d do. Not to you. I know what that’s like.”

He heard her shift, a small movement out of the corner of his eye. “So your brother brought your most hated enemy into your home?” Her accent was thick with her anger and hurt.

“No.” Steve huffed out a small laugh. “Nothing like that.” He sighed. “My mother gave me up to Child Protective Services. She put me in foster care when I had just turned twelve.” He hugged himself, remembering the deep shock he’d felt on that day, his absolute horror when he’d realized his mother meant to leave him there, and the utter helplessness when she’d turned around and left.

“Your mother gave you _away?_ “ 

He nodded. “I was sick and needed surgery. She couldn’t afford it, so she gave me up to make sure that I’d get it.” He’d told this part of the story before. He’d told it to Bucky just that winter. It still hurt the same every time he said it. Like the pain was so deep it would always be a part of him. His voice was just a whisper when he spoke again. “It was really hard.” 

“Did you get the surgery?” 

Steve blinked at the unexpected question. “Well, yeah. CPS had to do it, once I was in their care.” 

“So she made the right decision,” Wanda said decisively. “She gave you away to save your life, and since you’re still alive, her sacrifice was not in vain. She sounds like a very good mother.”

Steve sat up straight to look at her. “You don’t understand. I asked her not to leave me. I _begged_ her not to go. I fought with the CPS workers so hard that I had an asthma attack and ended up sedated in hospital. She _knew_ how upset I was. She could _see_ what was happening and she still walked away. _She still walked away from me_.” Steve was panting by the time he finished speaking, the emotions he’d felt when he was twelve resurfacing with the same intensity. He’d felt her leaving like a physical blow. 

He remembered that day keenly, how he’d been kicking and screaming. Begging her _no! Mom! Don’t go! Please don’t go! Don’tgodon’tgodon’tgodon’tgo _and how she’d covered her mouth with her hand and walked away. She’d never even looked back. He clutched his abdomen now, warding off the memory of the agony of that moment. “What kind of mother does that?”__

“The kind of mother who would do anything for her child,” Wanda said matter-of-factly. “It must have been terrible for her to leave you, worse than dying. And yet she did. You’re lucky for such an unselfish and loving mother. Not everyone has a parent who would love them that much.” 

_No one loves you_ he thought, remembering the way his mother sounded in his dream. “She didn’t love me,” Steve blurted before he’d had a chance to think about it. His face flushed in shame once he realized what he’d said out loud. He’d never articulated that before, never allowed himself to even _think_ it until Bucky abandoned him, too.

Wanda looked at him with confusion. “Of course she loved you. How could you say that?” 

“I was small and sickly my whole life. And always getting into fights. And even though I didn’t realize it until I was older, she probably knew I was gay since I was very young. I—I don’t think she wanted to keep me.” He forced the words past a throat gone thick with tears he refused to let fall. “I begged her not to leave me and she left anyway. I don’t think she loved me.” He worked his jaw against the lump in his throat. Looking anywhere but at the stranger he’d just admitted this to. He’d just told her things he’d never said to Sam, never confessed to Phil, never even breathed a word of to Bucky, whom he trusted most of all. 

He heard Wanda sliding along the windowsill bench until she was beside him, their legs touching. He felt her small hand on his shoulder, the pressure from her palm warm and firm. 

“Oh Steve,” she said softly, voice full of kindness. “You are very stupid.” 

Steve’s head snapped up. “What?”

“Did you need that surgery to save your life?” 

“Yes,” Steve said, wiping at his eyes. “But—”

“So, if your mother had eased your pain and taken you when you were begging her to, you would’ve died, yes?”

“I guess. But—”

“And before, the times before she left you. When you kicked and screamed before, did she walk away from you then too?”

“Well, no. But—”

“So, she left you this time so you would get your surgery and live, even though you were crying. Even though it must have broken her heart to leave you there. She left you so you would live, even though it must have killed her to do it. And yet you think she left you because she _didn’t_ love you.” She shook her head. “You are lucky you are handsome, because you’re very dumb.”

“She died from cancer the same year,” Steve said, trying to get her to understand. “After she left me, I didn’t see her again until she was dying in hospital. I could’ve been with her the whole time if she hadn’t left me.”

“See? It did kill her to leave you,” Wanda said as if it were self-evident. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Steve. I know what it’s like to lose your mother. And it is the hardest thing in the world.”

“Thank you,” Steve said. He’d always thought that his mother had left him because of a lack of love, but what if it’d been the complete opposite? He’d always thought it’d been his fault that she’d died, that leaving him had somehow hastened her death, like Wanda said. But he still didn’t know if he believed what Wanda thought: that his mother had truly loved him.

“It was the Starks who killed my parents.” Wanda’s expression hardened. “I know he is your friend, but Tony Stark is a murderer. I will never forgive Bruce for bringing him here.” 

Steve swallowed down his immediate response to defend his brother. He knew Tony hadn’t done anything, but arguing that point wasn’t going to help. Wanda was grieving for her parents who had died during a brutal and unnecessary war. Of course she was going to be angry about that. Tony was just an easy target. 

“I’m so sorry they died,” Steve said instead. “I can’t imagine how hard that was for you.” 

“You have no idea. Our apartment was bombed by the Sokovian Government, aiming at its own people to try to stop the rebel forces. They were supplied by Stark Industries. The first bomb that landed killed my mother and father where they sat at the kitchen table. We ran to hide but the second bomb landed in my room, smashing the bedframe and trapping me and Pietro underneath. The bomb didn’t go off but it was right there. Right in front of us until we were rescued. I spent two days staring at the name ‘Stark Industries’ inches from my face, knowing I was moments from the same death as my parents.” Her gaze met his, and the anguish in her eyes was as painful as a slap. “I pray to God that you never know what it’s like to think you’re going to die at any second, knowing the people you love are dead in the next room.” 

“I have no idea what to say to you. I can’t even imagine what that would’ve been like. Everything I can think of to say sounds stupid and trite and totally inadequate. All I can think is how sad that sounds. How terrifying and sad and just…” Steve let his voice trail off. “I’m so sorry that happened to you and Pietro. I’m just so sorry.” 

She looked surprised, like she hadn’t expected that kind of heartfelt reaction. “Oh. Well. We survived, which is better than most.” 

“You did survive. But it doesn’t change how awful it was.”

“I guess not,” she said. “But now you understand why I hate the Stark name? It’s because of the Starks that this happened. It’s all their fault.” 

“Tony’s father was a bastard,” Steve agreed readily. “He sold weapons to anyone who could pay for them and he treated Tony like shit. He was a really terrible father and a very immoral man. I’m sure it was him who sold those weapons to the Sokovian government. He wouldn’t have cared who it hurt.” 

Wanda sniffed. “The apple never falls far from the tree.” 

“Tony’s not like that.” 

“Of course he is. He’s a Stark.” 

“Stark Industries isn't Tony. He’s generous and kind and—”

“He’s your brother. And I know you love him. But I will never be able to see him that way. Never.” 

“Tony didn’t kill your parents,” Steve said quietly. “He had nothing to do with making or selling those weapons.” 

“He’s a Stark.” 

“He was twelve years old when the Sokovian Uprising occurred. Twelve. Just a child.” 

“I was ten when my parents were killed. I was just a child, too.” 

“And that should never, ever have happened to you,” Steve said vehemently. “But it wasn’t Tony’s fault. Blame Stark Industries. Blame Howard Stark. Hell! Blame the entire United States for not getting involved soon enough to save your parents’ lives, but please, don’t blame Tony. He already blames himself for too many things that he had no control over. Please, don’t blame him.” 

Wanda eyed him. “You love him very much.” 

“Yeah.” Steve smiled softly. “I do.” 

“Well, we already have established that you’re stupid. So I’m not sure how good your judgement is with this.” But she smiled when she said it.

“I’m not asked you to love him like I do. I mean, he’s arrogant and sarcastic and he can be a total asshole sometimes. But he deserves a chance to be judged for what he’s done. Not for his parents.”

“Bruce should never have brought him home,” Wanda grumbled.

“I think he was more worried about Pietro than he was about how you’d feel about it. He honestly thought Tony could help.”

“That sounds like your mother.” 

“I guess. I guess it does.” Steve bit his lip. “It’s just really hard for me to believe it.” 

“Don’t bite your lip,” Wanda said. “You’ll make it bleed.” 

Steve stopped immediately . 

“Bruce does that. He bites his lips when he’s upset or anxious.” Wanda looked sad again. “His lips bleed all the time.”

Steve nudged her shoulder with his. “Sounds like you love him very much.” 

Wanda made a face. “Of course I do. Why do you think his betrayal hurts so badly?”

“He thought Tony could help,” Steve said again. “He only did it because of how much he loves you both.” 

Wanda sighed heavily. “I suppose. And maybe I will even forgive him for it.” She stood. “Come, let’s go back so I can meet this Tony Stark and hate him for himself. And maybe they have news about Pietro,” she said mostly to herself. 

“Maybe,” Steve said quietly. He followed her back down the corridor.

* * *

“I didn’t do anything,” Tony said.

“I _know_ ,” Bruce said for what felt like the hundredth time. “But that’s why Pietro and Wanda hate you so much. Because of your name. Not because of _you._ “ He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging it a little. His temper was rising at Tony’s obstinate refusal to understand where the twins were coming from and the fact they’d been arguing the same point for what felt like hours. There’d been no news on Pietro in the meantime either, and Bruce thought he’d explode if he didn’t hear something about his brother soon. 

He really didn’t want to explode. 

“But _I didn’t do anything,_ “ Tony insisted _again_. “This irrational hatred of theirs. It’s not fair.”

“Yeah?” Bruce whirled on him. “Well Tony, sometimes life just isn’t fair.” 

“Wow. Profound.” Tony crossed his ankles on the coffee table he’d dragged across the room and put in front of the couch. “You should make a poster.” 

The pizza had arrived not long after Steve left, and Bruce and Tony had both scarfed down three-quarters of a pie between them within minutes of its arrival. Mere minutes after that they’d started arguing about Pietro and Wanda’s feelings about the Stark family, and they’d been at it ever since.

“You’ve got to understand,” Bruce bit out. “Wanda and Pietro’s parents died in the Sokovian Uprising. They _died_ because of bombs made by _your_ company. They’ve got a lot of reasons to hate you.”

“No.” Tony thrust out his finger at Bruce. “ _You’ve_ got to understand something. I was a kid when that happened. A little kid with _no control_ over anything my father was doing. If anyone has a right to hate my father, it’s me!”

Bruce ran his fingers through his hair again. He was scared for Pietro and frustrated by the argument and the _last thing_ Bruce wanted to think about was father-son relationships and how bad they could get. “You think you got the monopoly on shitty fathers? You think you’re the only one who had no control over what their dad was doing? You think you’re the only one who hates their dad?”

Tony blinked. “Uh. Weren’t we just talking about Wanda and Pietro’s hate on for me?”

Bruce bobbed his head back. Tony was right. He’d really lost focus there. He bit his lip and tasted blood. _Wanda won’t be happy with that,_ he thought. “Yeah. We were.”

“Look.” Tony put both feet on the ground and leaned forward, “I can’t help being a Stark, just like you can’t help being a poverty-stricken runaway rage-monster. But we shouldn’t be judged for that kind of shit. It’s not fair.”

“I _KNOW!_ “ Bruce yelled. “And I’m not ‘poverty-stricken', you classist asshole!’ You just watch your mouth!” 

“But I pegged the runaway rage-monster. So, two out of three,” Tony said, unrepentant. 

Bruce blinked, and then laughed despite himself, some of his anger dissipating. “How do you have any friends?”

Tony grinned. “My looks and charm, obviously.” His expression grew serious. “But you mentioned some heavy shit about your dad?” 

“Are you _really_ asking me about that?”

Tony shrugged. “You brought it up. Should I not ask?”

Bruce shook his head. “No. Probably not.” 

“Okay. I’m brutal at the emotional stuff anyway. You should really talk to Steve if you want to, you know, let everything out. But I really hope you’re planning on talking to someone about it. That kind of stuff’s too big to carry alone.” 

Bruce smirked, but there was no humour in it. “And what would you know about it?”

“A destroyed kitchen and a scar on my hand,” Tony said lightly. “But that’s a boring story anyway. Let’s talk about you!”

“Let’s not.” Bruce turned away to look at the painting hanging on the wall. It was a landscape done in pastel hues that conveyed no emotion whatsoever. For a moment Bruce wished he could just step into that painting and stay there. 

“Why me?” Bruce asked into the quiet that’d descended between them. “Out of every single possible person in that biology class. Why’d you pick me?” He’d aimed to make himself invisible in class. He’d aimed to make himself invisible on _campus_ , doing everything in his power to seem small and unmemorable. It was the only way he could be sure to keep his siblings safe. And yet Tony had blown through his attempt to disappear within seconds. 

Tony shrugged. “Why not you?”

“Because I’m nothing special? Because I ran away from you when we first met? Because I tried to avoid you? Because I told you flat out we could never be friends? What part of all of that—of _any_ of that—made you want to be friends with me?”

“You seemed interesting,” Tony said with a small shrug. “And you weren’t impressed by me. That doesn’t happen to me very often. Only my siblings—and Pepper—have ever treated me like someone normal before. And then you happened. This art is so totally inoffensive as to be completely uninspiring. Do you think they’re _expecting_ people to die here, so they don’t care what art they’re looking at? Or do you think it’s meant to make them so angry that they rage against the dying of the light—”

“Nice use of Dylan Thomas—”

“See?” Tony interrupted gleefully. “How many of those plebeians in biology would know that quote?”

“But you got it wrong,” Bruce continued if Tony hadn’t said anything, “I _was_ impressed by you. Totally, completely and utterly impressed.” He paused to rub at the back of his neck, feeling strangely embarrassed for what he’d just admitted. “Just to clarify.”

“I knew it!” Tony crowed. “There was _no way_ you weren’t fanboying all over me!”

Bruce laughed. “You’re such an asshole.” 

“But an impressive asshole.” Tony grinned at him. 

“Yeah, okay,” Bruce agreed with a chuckle. “Can’t really argue with that.”

Tony’s face fell. “But your siblings hate me.” 

Bruce bit his lip again. “Yeah, they do. I’m sorry.” 

“Me, too.” Tony looked at Bruce from under his eyelashes, vulnerable in a way that Bruce never thought Tony could look. “I’d really like for us to be friends.”

“Me, too,” Bruce said unhappily. 

“Maybe they’ll change their minds?” 

“I hope so. You’ve been really good to them. To us. I know that’ll count for something.” 

“And hey, vegetarian pizza.” Tony gestured at the boxes on the coffee table. “That was a huge sacrifice on my part. Massive.” 

“Totally,” Bruce agreed somberly, relieved that once again Tony had managed to lighten the mood. “And when Wanda gets back—”

The door opened. “Speak of the devil,” Tony murmured. 

But it wasn’t Wanda. Instead a handsome man in his early fifties walked into the room. He had thinning dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes and he looked professional even in an untucked dark blue button-down with the sleeves rolled up. Behind him came a woman with long black hair wearing a sleek grey dress who was attractive in a severe way. 

“Tony!” the man exclaimed, “How are you?”

Bruce’s eyes went wide. He knew that man.

“Good!” Tony jumped up and ran to embrace him. “Better now you’re here.” He grinned at the beautiful woman. “Melinda, good to see you.” 

“Nice to see you too, Tony.” She smiled and a modicum of her severity dropped away. Her smile widened. “Glad to see you dressed for the occasion.” 

“I’ll have you know these are my formal pajamas.” Tony grinned back at her.

“I brought Melinda to see if she could use her CPS know-how to help your friend,” the man said. He smiled and kept one arm around Tony’s shoulder as he turned to face Bruce. “And I’m guessing this is he—” His expression changed to one of total shock. “Bruce?” 

“Officer Coulson,” Bruce breathed. “What are you doing here?”

* * *

“Bruce?” Phil was gaping at him. Bruce knew he was gaping back, looking at Phil’s face for any sign of guilt, or remorse, or hell, _glee_. Any of the reactions he'd expected from the officer who'd betrayed him three years ago. 

But Phil looked shocked and delighted to see him, like it was some kind of dream come true. 

“Officer Coulson?” Bruce said, taking a tentative step closer. “What are you doing here?” It was the only thing he could think of to say. 

Tony stepped out from under Phil’s lax arm, his eyes goggling at them both. “You know Bruce? How do you know Bruce?”

“Oh my God,” he heard Melinda breathe from somewhere behind him. “This is Bruce Banner, isn’t it?”

Bruce turned to look at her, his heart kicking into overdrive. He’d hidden himself and the twins _so well_ and yet she’d somehow knew him. “How’d you know my name?”

Phil reached out to put his hands on either side of Bruce’s face. “Bruce,” he said again, and Bruce saw that Phil was close to tears. “I thought you were dead.” 

“Dead?” Bruce’s mind was reeling. “Why would you think that?”

Phil pulled him into a hug. “I thought you were dead! I looked for you for _years!_ I honestly thought…” He broke off and just held him. Bruce could feel Phil’s hands trembling where they were pressed up against his back.

_He thought I was dead?_ kept echoing through Bruce’s head. It made no sense. Bruce had needed Phil so badly, and Phil had just…disappeared. Like he'd thrown Bruce away like so much garbage. Bruce had lived for years thinking that Phil was just one more person that he couldn’t count on. That except for Wanda and Pietro, Bruce had no one to rely on but himself. 

“You never called me back,” Bruce said, shifting so he could look at Phil. They were the same height now, he noted. Phil had seemed so much taller when they’d first met, right after Bruce’s father had killed his mother. He could hear the pain in his voice, the three years of anguish that he’d never told anyone. “You told me to get the twins somewhere safe and then you’d call me, but you never did.”

“He got shot,” Melinda said. “He was shot and he almost died. He started looking for you as soon as he’d recovered enough to do so.”

Bruce looked between Melinda and Phil, feeling a strange mixture of horror and hope. “You were _shot?_ “

“Yes,” Phil said. “My right shoulder. I was in hospital for a long time.”

“And you never forgot me?” Bruce asked tentatively. He’d been so sure that Phil had just…stopped caring. 

“Never,” Phil said immediately. He smiled but there was real sadness in it. “I swear, I thought you were dead.” 

“Your former foster father told us you’d kidnapped the twins and run away,” Melinda explained. “But we always felt there was something more there than what he was saying. The going theory was that he’d…done something to the three of you and had made up the runaway part to cover his tracks. The police did a thorough investigation, but they could never find anything. I’m very glad we were wrong.” 

“Wait,” Tony said. “You thought Bruce had been _murdered?_ “

“There was no trace of him or the twins anywhere.” Phil was still studying Bruce as if he were afraid he’d disappear any second. “We’re police officers. We assume the worst.”

“Wait.” Bruce stepped back from Melinda and Phil so he could look at both of them at once. “Are you saying that my foster father is _still alive?_ “

Phil blinked. “Yes. Why wouldn’t he be?”

Melinda’s expression sharpened. “Is that why you ran?”

Phil turned to look at Melinda. “What?”

“It was when you’d asked me to track down Bruce while you were still in hospital. After I also failed to contact Bruce, Nick and I went to his former foster home. Mr. Strucker said that Bruce had tried to kill him in an unprovoked attack, and then stolen the twins and left.” Her expression turned cynical. “We were always very interested in why he hadn’t reported this ‘attempted murder’ when it’d happened. It was what spurred the police investigation.”

“I didn’t try to kill him! I swear!” Bruce said quickly. Of course, he nearly _had_ , but there’d been no intent.

“It’s because of what he’d been doing, wasn’t it Bruce?” Phil said quietly. “I remember the last conversation we had. You told me he’d been…inappropriate…with the female twin.”

“Wanda,” Bruce said, thinking of his sister. How young she’d been then, how defenseless.

“With Wanda,” Phil corrected himself. “You were trying to protect her, weren’t you?”

Bruce nodded. And suddenly the reality of what Phil and Melinda were saying hit him full-force. He hadn’t killed Strucker. The horrible events of that day hadn’t ended up cumulating in a murder that Bruce could never undo or outrun.He folded himself onto one of the couches, shaking with his head in his hands. 

“What the hell?” Tony said. “What’s going on?”

“Your dad knows Bruce from before he retired,” Melinda said. “They’re just catching up.” 

“Yeah, I got that part,” Tony said. “I meant the ‘what’s going on’ for the part that wasn’t that part.” 

“I thought I killed him. I thought you’d stopped caring and then I thought I killed him….” Bruce sobbed, head still in his hands. His cast was rough against his face.

“No, Bruce.” Bruce felt the couch shift as Phil sat down beside him, stroking his hand through his hair. “I never stopped caring. Not for a second.”

Bruce nodded but he couldn't stop crying. It felt like he’d spent years holding his breath and this was the first time he’d been able to exhale. He remembered the night he’d escaped with Wanda and Pietro, how they’d left at a dead run, sure the police would capture them any second. Sure that they’d be separated and that Bruce would go to jail for a murder he hadn’t meant to commit. He remembered how much he’d wanted to call Phil for help, but knowing with certainty he’d been abandoned.…

“I tried to find you,” Phil murmured as if he heard Bruce’s thoughts. He pulled Bruce into his arms. “I swear to God that I never left you.” 

Bruce nodded again, although he wasn’t sure he believed what Phil was saying. He was shaking from the force of his tears. 

“Bruce?”

Bruce whipped his head up at the sound of Wanda’s voice. She was standing just inside the doorway, Tony’s brother Steve right behind her. Her big eyes were taking in the two strangers in the room and Bruce sobbing on the couch, and he could see that she was coming to some pretty bad conclusions. 

“Did something happen to Pietro?” she asked faintly.

“Uh, those people aren’t doctors,” Steve said from behind her.

Her eyes widened as she shed one bad conclusion for another. “No!” She shouted as she ran forward and deftly managed to insert herself between Phil and Bruce. She curled herself around him, her small body tense like a wire. “I don’t care what he told you.” Her accent was thick with worry. “I killed that bastard. It was me. Not Bruce. Me! I swear!” 

“It’s okay Wanda.” Bruce moved so that he could slide her off his back and onto the seat beside him. It was amazing how quickly his tears dried up in the face of his siblings’ need. “Strucker didn’t die. He’s not dead. I didn’t kill anybody.” 

Wanda’s eyes grew even larger. “He’s not dead?”

“No,” Phil cut in. “Strucker is very much alive, although he’s no longer a foster parent with CPS. I don’t know what Bruce thought he did, but he certainly didn’t kill anyone.” 

She said something reverent in Sokovian and started to cry, hugging Bruce hard enough to hurt. 

Bruce hugged her back, and they just held each other, his shoulder getting wet with her tears. 

“I think I missed something,” Steve said coming to stand beside Tony. 

“You and me both, brother.” Tony went to put his hands in his pockets, realized he was still wearing his pajamas, and crossed his arms instead. “So.” He cocked his head as he looked at Phil. “What's this story, morning glory? Why do you know my biology buddy?”

“And why does Tony call you ‘dad?’” Bruce asked. He was proud of how calm he said it, and how he kept the _and why not me?_ tightly behind his teeth.

“The answers to both those questions are a little complicated,” Melinda said with what sounded like practiced understatement. “And while I’m sure you’re all curious, my priority is getting Bruce, Wanda and Pietro’s status formalized so that they’re no longer at risk of separation.” She turned to look at Bruce. “Or jail.” 

“He did nothing wrong!” Wanda glared at Melinda from Bruce’s arms.

“I know that,” Melinda said kindly, “but state law is very clear that you’re not meant to aid or abet runaways. Bruce could be said to have done just that for the last three years.” 

“You’ve been on your own for three years?” Steve’s expression was aghast. 

“We did fine,” Wanda said, and Bruce had to smile at how ferociously she was defending him. 

“I looked for you,” Phil said quietly. “I never wanted you to be on your own like that.” 

“Well you sure didn’t look hard enough, did you?” Bruce said. Now that his shock was subsiding and his tears had dried, the anger he’d felt at Phil’s betrayal was coming to the fore. “It’s not like I just disappeared. I _called_ you! My number was on your phone!”

“And I was in hospital for over two weeks before I was able to call you back,” Phil said patiently. “Your number just rang out. There was no answer and no voicemail. I had no leads to direct Melinda and Nick to beyond Strucker, and as you know he was less than helpful. It was like you’d disappeared.”

“I took the twins to New York City,” Bruce spat. “That should’ve been obvious.”

“Not when you’d grown up in Ohio and were fostered in New Jersey,” Phil said. “You’d only been in New York for a few months when we met. It was one of the places we searched. But Bruce, we honestly thought we were searching for three bodies, not three children! You need to understand—”

“What do I need to understand?” Bruce stood, feeling the anger shifting into rage. “That you wrote me off as soon as you could? That you assumed the worst so you wouldn’t have to feel guilty about abandoning me? So you wouldn’t have to worry about me while you were finding other children to care for?”

Phil stood as well, hands out placatingly. “That’s not it at all.” 

“Don’t do this,” Wanda said warningly, grabbing his arm. He shook her off.

“Uh, rage monster alert,” Tony said. “Bruce, you’re losing it.”

“Rage monster?” Bruce turned on Tony. “You wanna see rage monster Stark?” He picked up a chair.

“No!” Wanda cried. “Bruce, don’t!” 

It was like her voice was coming from a distance. All he could hear was the sound of the blood rushing in his ears. Phil had betrayed him. Left him to rot on the streets of New York, content to cry about the boy he couldn’t save. Patting himself on the back for his feeble attempts to find him. Only pretending to care.

Just like everyone else who’d turned a blind eye when his father was beating his mother. Until it was too late, and she was dead.

There was a scream and the sound of metal hitting the floor and the haze in Bruce’s head cleared. 

His sister was sprawled on the floor, her eyes wide in terror, Steve half-covering her with his own body. 

Tony was lying on his side, his right wrist clasped in his left hand, up against his chest. The chair was on its back a few feet away.

Phil and Melinda were staring at him, hands up defensively, eyes wide and mouths open in shock.

* * *

“I should press charges.” 

“I’m sorry,” Bruce said again. He and Tony were sitting together on an examination bed in the emergency department, waiting for the results of the x-ray of Tony's right wrist. It’d been put into a sling by one of the nurses and it was now nicely strapped to Tony’s chest. By the time they’d gotten downstairs the area was purple with bruising. The swelling had been phenomenal.

Tony glared at him. “I should sue your ass so hard that you won’t be able to sit down until you’re forty.” 

“I’m sorry,” Bruce said yet again. He looked utterly crestfallen and completely remorseful, but Tony was still too angry to care.

“You threw a fucking chair! At your sister! What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” Bruce said mournfully. “When I get angry—”

“Oh no, that’s not 'angry',” Tony interrupted. He tried to make air quotes and then winced. “That’s a total meltdown of epic proportions. You practically turned green, you were so rage-y. It’s ridiculous.” 

“I just shut down,” Bruce finished. “It’s happened since…since my mother died. I don’t know how to control it.” He chewed on his bottom lip. It started bleeding.

“Yeah, well. Tossing chairs at your _sister_ is probably not the best way to try for that control.” Tony scowled. “You could’ve hurt her.”

“Thank you for pushing the chair out of the way,” Bruce said for the zillionth time. “If it hadn’t been for you—”

“Steve actually pushed her out of the way.” Tony waved him off with his good hand, which was still a bit of ow because bruised shoulders. “I was stupid and tried to stop the chair. I should’ve just let it sail over their heads.” He eyed his injured wrist. “This is going to make notetaking in class way more difficult than it has to be.” 

“I’ll take your notes,” Bruce offered instantly. 

“You’ve got a cast on your right hand as well. Duh.” Tony rolled his eyes.

“I’ll figure something out.” Bruce's gaze slid to the door. “Well, unless your cop dad actually does want to press charges for assault? I know I deserve it.”

The constant remorse Bruce was showing was wearing down Tony’s anger. He made a face. “Don’t be stupid.”

“But I hurt you!” 

“I know. The pain in my limb is kind of hard to miss.” He sighed. “But jail time is not going to help with your anger management problems. Phil knows that. He’s not dumb. Plus you’ve practically been in prison with that shitty apartment for years. That’s punishment enough.” The look Bruce shot him made Tony laugh. “You really like that shit box, don’t you?”

“It’s the first home I’ve had where I felt safe,” Bruce said quietly. “So, yeah.” 

Tony immediately stopped laughing. “Oh.” 

“It’s funny,” Bruce said with a smile that was anything but amused. “I’ve spent so long hating my dad, despising him for what he did. And I’m just like him.”

“Okay, that was complete non-sequitur.”

“Talking about feeling safe reminded me of my dad,” Bruce explained with a small shrug. “I never felt safe when I was growing up. He was…horrible.” His expression was a tragic combination of sadness and resignation. “But now I’m just like him.” 

“What?” Tony squawked. “’Just like him'? How can you even say that? I mean, I never met the guy, but your cryptic messages of secretness make him sound pretty fucking awful. You’re nothing like that.” 

“I lose my temper like he did. And I hurt people I care about. I pushed you down the stairs, I broke your car. I even broke your wrist when you were trying to protect Wanda!” He shook his head. “I’m just like him.” 

“You care about me?”

Bruce eyed him. “We’re friends, aren’t we? Well, I hope you’re still my friend?”

“Of course we’re friends!” Tony cried happily. “And if it only took a broken wrist for you to get that, even better!” His smile fell. “But what about the hate on Wanda and Pedro—”

“Pietro.”

“—Pietro have for me?”

“I’ll set them straight. You got hurt trying to save Wanda. I think that counts for something. I think that counts a lot. I know it will count a lot with Pietro.” 

“Well, good. I’m glad that’s settled.” 

They sat in silence for a bit, Tony trying to ignore the throbbing in his wrist and Bruce far too focused on wringing his hands. Phil and Melinda were still sorting out the legal issues raised by Bruce’s unorthodox living arrangements with the twins, and he thought that Steve had taken Wanda to the cafeteria to get her something to drink. Phil would be back to see him shortly, Tony knew, but in the meantime he was slightly bored sitting with the sad and silent Bruce. He was just about to ask Bruce to fish his phone out of his pocket so he could text Pepper when Bruce spoke. 

“My father killed my mother,” he said quietly, still looking at his hands. “He beat her to death on the street in front of our house. I was hiding in the back seat of the car when it happened.”

“Jesus.” 

“He always beat her,” Bruce continued in that same quiet voice. “He’d been beating her for years, but this was the worst. We were trying to get away from him. We were running away when he stopped us and just pulled her out of the car by her hair. When I realized what he was doing, I jumped out of the car and onto his back, trying to get him to stop. He grabbed for me, and started hitting me too. My mother pulled me out of his arms, tried to shelter me with her body. He hit her for it so many times, but she kept protecting me. Finally he just grabbed her and slammed her head into the pavement, then he grabbed for me again. But my shirt ripped out of his hands and I was able to get away.” Bruce’s mouth lifted in the same non-smile he’d used before: the one that looked like he was only smiling so he wouldn’t cry. “My shirt was wet with blood by the time I got to my neighbours. It was actually the first time they believed me that my mom was in danger. But by the time the cops arrived, she was already dead. He’d started to stomp on her when she was on the ground. Her chest, her head….”

Tony reached out with his good hand to squeeze Bruce’s knee. “It’s okay. I understand. You don’t need to tell me any more.” 

Bruce looked at him, his eyes dark and very far away. “What?”

“You’re nothing like you’re father,” Tony said vehemently. “I don’t care how upset you get. I don’t care how many chairs you throw. You are _nothing_ like him. _Nothing._ And you never will be.”

“I tried to hit my sister with a chair.” 

“No.” Tony shook his head. “Okay, I know I said that, but that’s not what happened. You actually just threw the chair at the same time she moved to stop you. It ended up going in her direction, but you didn’t throw it at her on purpose. You were angry, yes, and totally out of control, but your rage monster doesn’t hurt people. You don’t hurt people, Bruce. You don’t.” 

“I pushed you down the stairs.” 

“You weren’t trying to hurt me,” Tony said with conviction. “You were trying to get me to leave you alone. Totally different.”

Bruce shook his head again. “I’m not sure I buy it.” 

“Then don’t. Feel guilty and get help and don’t ever do it again. But don’t you _ever_ compare yourself to a man who would beat his wife to death in front of their son. That man’s a real fucking monster. Not you.”

“I beat Strucker.” Bruce met Tony’s eyes for the first time. “I left him unconscious on the floor. I thought he was dead, and I left him anyway. How does that not make me as much of a monster as my dad?”

“Wait. Strucker’s the guy who wanted to molest Wanda?”

Bruce nodded his head. “Phil told me to get her and Pietro and myself somewhere safe, so Pietro and I were in the room we shared, packing some clothes so we could get away. Wanda was in the kitchen, getting us some food for our trip when Strucker came home.”

Tony exhaled, knowing what was probably going to come next. “Let me guess. He grabbed for her?”

Bruce nodded again. “Trapped her in the kitchen up against the counter. She fought, but you’ve seen how small she is now and she was only twelve then. She didn’t even weigh a hundred pounds. Pietro heard her screams and he was down the stairs so fast I didn’t even see him leave. By the time I got down there, Strucker was beating Pietro for getting in his way. He was holding Pietro by the neck, slamming him against the counter. He was bleeding….”

“And I bet Pietro bleeding made you think of the night your mom died,” Tony filled in softly. “And when you came back to yourself, Strucker was on the floor and you guys ran.”

“Yeah,” Bruce bit his lip. “How did you know that?”

Tony held up his left hand to show Bruce the light pink scar across his palm. “I may have been somewhere like that myself. It’s kind of an amazingly dark place.” 

Bruce nodded in understanding. “I don’t even know what I hit him with. But he was lying on the kitchen floor. I was sure I killed him. I wanted to check if he was still breathing, but Wanda was terrified he’d wake up. Pietro was hurt but not too bad, so we left. We called 911 from a pay phone in the next town, but I never heard what happened.” He looked at Tony, and Bruce’s eyes were so anguished that Tony had to swallow against the lump that formed in his throat. “I left him there, Tony. Unconscious and bleeding. I left him to die. What kind of person does that make me? What kind of _monster?_ “ He put his head in his hands and started to weep. 

“It’s okay,” Tony said helplessly. He put his left arm around Bruce’s shoulders, giving him what he hoped was a comforting hug. “Your dad was the monster. Not you. You were trying to save Wanda and Pietro. That makes you a good brother, not a monster. You’re a good man, Bruce. I swear.” 

“You know that?” Bruce cried into his hands. “Is that what you know?”

“I know how much you love Wanda and Pietro, and how much you sacrificed for them. I don’t really need to know anything more than that.” 

“I don’t want to be like this anymore,” Bruce sobbed. “I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore. I don’t want to be like this.” 

“Okay,” Tony soothed. “We can do that. Please, don’t cry.” 

The curtain opened and Phil came in, his face carved in lines of worry that Tony hadn’t seen on him since he'd met them at the hospital after Clint and Bucky nearly got run over. 

“Everything okay?” he said, and then took in Bruce’s crying and the desperate look on Tony’s face. “Oh.” 

Bruce looked up at the sound of Phil’s voice. “Phil?”

“Come here,” Phil said and opened his arms. 

Bruce nodded, looking totally broken. He got off the examination table and went into Phil’s embrace. 

“Whatever it is. No matter how awful or how sad or how _anything,_ “ Phil said, holding him tightly, “we will fix it. We will find the problem and fix it. I promise.”

“Okay,” Bruce said tearfully, his face pressed against Phil’s chest. 

“I’ve got you,” Phil said to the top of Bruce’s head. “I’ve found you and I’m never, ever letting you go again. I promise.”

“Okay,” Bruce repeated and then again; “Okay.”

* * *

Steve had just started to doze when Phil came in. 

“Oh, hey, dad.” He sat up, rubbing his eyes. “How’s Tony?”

Phil sat down beside him on one of the metal chairs in the emergency waiting room. They were only marginally more comfortable than the ones in the ICU waiting area where Steve had spent the morning. 

“He’s fine. The break is clean, below his growth plate and that, combined with his age, means that we don’t have to worry about surgery.” He smirked. “He’s getting a cast in pink camouflage to, and I quote, ‘contrast nicely with Bruce’s.’ He should be out in about fifteen minutes.” 

Steve smiled back. “They’re going to be very matchy-matchy.” 

Phil’s grin widened. “You sounded exactly like Natasha just then.” 

“She’s a good influence.” 

“Clearly.” Phil smiled, but then his expression sobered. “You and I need to talk.”

“About how I sound like Natasha?” Steve tried to joke. 

“I think you know what we need to talk about. About your sudden decision to join the military, and about how you left this morning.” Phil leaned forward so that his forearms were resting on his knees, his hands clasped together. “So, I heard your rhetoric over dinner, and I read your note. Care to tell me what’s really going on?”

Steve licked his lips. _No one loves you,_ he thought. “It’s not a big deal. It just seemed like the right time.”

“Wait. Do you mean leaving this morning or joining the military?”

“Both?” Steve tried. He sighed. “It’s complicated.” 

“And now you sound like Tony,” Phil said, unamused. “Steve, I need you to give me a straight answer here.” 

Steve shrugged. “That kind of is my answer.”

Phil crossed his arms. “’It’s complicated.’”

“It’s hard to explain.” 

“Try me.” 

“I don’t know what to say, Mr. Coulson!” Steve defaulted to his more formal way of speaking which he always did when he was upset. He could tell by Phil’s expression that his dad had noticed it, too.

“How about you start by telling me what’s going on with you and Bucky,” Phil said. 

Steve startled and it took him a second to realize that Phil wasn’t asking him about the sex he and Bucky had had the night before. “Nothing’s going on with me and James.” 

“He’s very upset about you leaving. Were you aware of that?”

Steve thought about Bucky’s text. “I’m not sure that’s correct, sir.” 

Phil’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not in the military yet, Steve. Phil is fine.” 

“I’m not sure it’s correct that James is upset I’m leaving,” Steve said again. “He seemed fine with it last night.” 

“Well, he’s not,” Phil said succinctly. “He’s devastated. As are Natasha and Clint. And probably Tony too, although I wouldn’t know because he took off with you to New York this morning before I could ask.”

“Tony drove me as a favour,” Steve said. He winced as he remembered the conversation he and Tony had far too early that morning. “But we didn’t talk about the military.” 

“Well, I’m sure he’s not too keen on it. And while we’re on the topic, you can add my name to that list, too. I’m all for the military, but not this way and not for you. Oh don’t get me wrong, I think you’d make a great soldier. But I think your heart wouldn’t be in it. I think you really want to be a nurse, like your mother. And I think you're making this decision for all the wrong reasons.” Phil tilted his head so that their gazes met. “What do you think?” 

“Clearly I wouldn’t agree with that,” Steve said sarcastically, and then he added, “sir,” just to piss Phil off.

Phil smirked to let Steve know he knew what Steve was doing. “I think you’re deciding this because Bucky’s decided to stay in Poughkeepsie for school. And I think that’s made you feel abandoned and unloved so you’re running away.” 

Steve swallowed. “That’s not it.” 

“I've noticed that you and Bucky aren't talking much right now, and I'm sure this lack of communication is only making things worse. I can only imagine how difficult its been for both of you recently." 

“Well, I wouldn’t know how hard it's been on Bucky, would I?."

“I’m sure it’s hurt you a lot for your boyfriend to be so withdrawn," Phil said sympathetically. "But I don’t think that you going to the military will make that any better.” 

“Yeah, well maybe I’m just tired of being treated that way. Like I’m—” _not lovable_ “—dispensable,” Steve finished. 

“You’re not dispensable,” Phil said sharply. “How could you think that?”

“Tell that to Bucky,” Steve looked away. “Because it’s pretty plain that he thinks I am.” 

“You’re wrong, and you need to give him the chance to prove it. I’d like you to come home, Steve. Come home and talk this out with Bucky. Don’t let it end like this.” 

“I don’t want it to end at all,” Steve said truthfully. “But I don’t think Bucky cares.” 

“Steve, Bucky's had ten years where he purposely avoided talking about anything, including his emotions. If you want anything in your relationship with Bucky to get better, you’re going to have to make the first move.” 

Steve opened his mouth to argue, but then he paused. He remembered that he'd even told Bucky that it was okay if he didn’t speak that much when they first started dating. But last night Bucky had said something. Something important.

“Last night Bucky said he loved me.”

Phil smiled. “I could be wrong, but that doesn’t sound like the words of someone who doesn’t care.” His expression grew serious. “Do you love him?”

“Yeah,” Steve said quietly. “I do.” 

“Maybe you need to tell him that.” 

“Maybe,” Steve agreed reluctantly. He hadn’t told anyone he loved them since his mother died. 

“Melinda is going to have Wanda and Bruce stay with her until Pietro is out of the hospital,” Phil said. “And as soon as Tony’s cast is finished I’m taking him back to the farm so he can catch up on his sleep and start to heal. He can’t drive right now, so I’m hoping I can persuade you to take his car back to the farm so we won’t need to inconvenience anyone. Nick said we could park it in their driveway, but I’d rather not have to ask.” 

“How’s Pietro doing?” It was a bit of a dodge, but Steve was also concerned. He didn’t know the boy at all, but what he’d heard of the twins’ story sounded tragic enough already. He really wanted Pietro to get better. 

“Good. The antibiotics are working and they think they’ll be able to remove his breathing tube and lift the sedation in a day or two.” Phil caught Steve’s gaze again. “You’re medical instinct probably saved his life.” 

Steve was shaking his head before Phil even finished. “No. It was Tony who persuaded Bruce and Wanda to call the ambulance. I was just there.”

“That’s not what I heard,” Phil said sincerely. “Nursing is the right career for you. If you want to join the military, fine. But do it as a nursing officer. The world needs your talent, Steve. Don’t throw it away.” 

When Phil looked like that, it was hard not to immediately agree to everything he said. And if Steve admitted it to himself, he liked having been able to figure out what’d been going on with Pietro. He liked knowing he could help. “I’ll think about it.” 

“Are you going to drive Tony’s car home?”

Steve swallowed. Phil was really asking him if he was going to come home and talk to Bucky. Bucky, who’d told him he loved him. Phil thought that meant something. Maybe Steve should try. “Yeah, okay.” Steve said. “I can do that.” 

He hoped it was even true.

* * *

“Nick really hates it if you actually _use_ the pretty hand towels, so don’t.” 

“Okay.”

“And the chocolate milk in the fridge? Don’t touch that. Nick drinks it after his workouts and he doesn’t like to share.”

“No guest towels, no chocolate milk. Got it.”

“And never, _ever_ change the channel when he’s watching sports. Even though it totally looks like he’s asleep and drooling and everything. He will wake up in a hot second and kick your ass.” 

“Okay!” Bruce rolled his eyes. “I get it. Don’t touch Nick’s stuff or he’ll kill me.” He grinned at Tony, who still looked like Bruce was going off to the gallows.

“I’m serious here,” Tony said. They were standing in the foyer of the main entrance to the hospital waiting for Phil and Steve to bring the cars up from the parking garage. Melinda was up with Wanda, ensuring that the hospital knew how to get a hold of her should anything go drastically wrong overnight. Pietro had still been sedated and breathing through a tube when Bruce had visited before, but Wanda had assured him that her brother was actually doing better, no matter how small and pale he looked lying on the bed. It’d still been shocking for Bruce to see him like that. He wasn’t used to Pietro being so still. 

“I know,” Bruce said more gently. “And we won’t do anything to make Nick or Melinda mad at us. I promise.”

Tony blinked. “Why are you saying ‘we?’”

Bruce blinked back. “Because Wanda and I are both staying there?”

“But Nick loves girl children. It won’t matter if she breaks his favourite antique beer stein—and he does have those—over his head. He’ll still treat her like she’s made of spun gold cotton candy made of glass.” 

“That’s a…very interesting description.” 

“Yeah, well, you should see the way Nick is with my sister Natasha.” Tony made a face. “He actually _talks_ to her. In full sentences!” He shook his head. “It’s blatant discrimination.” 

“Maybe she doesn’t drink his chocolate milk.”

Tony narrowed his eyes at Bruce. “You’ll see.” 

Bruce grinned. “Probably. I hate sports.” 

Tony laughed. “I wish I could be there to see that.”

“Me, too.” Bruce's smile slipped. He’d only actually known Tony for a very short time, but he’d told him stuff that he’d only ever said to the twins. There was something about Tony, something about his humour and his kindness and warmth and his no-holds-barred personality, which made Bruce feel safe. “I’m really going to miss you.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m very lovable,” Tony said flippantly. He looked at Bruce through his eyelashes. “It’s probably weird, since we’ve only known each other for a short time and shit, but I’m going to miss you, too.” 

“Do you….” Bruce cleared his throat. “Do you think Phil actually meant it, when he said that the twins and I could come live with you guys?”

“He said that?” Tony lit up. “Well, if he said it, he meant it. That guy is one serious dude. He never lies.” 

One side of Bruce’s mouth lifted. “That’s how I remember him.” 

“I keep forgetting you knew him before.”

“He was the officer who investigated the death of my mother,” Bruce said to the ground. 

“How old were you?” 

“Ten. I was ten. The same age the twins were when their parents were killed.” He flicked his gaze to Tony’s. “Strange, huh?”

“I was sixteen when my parents died.” Tony huffed out a mirthless laugh. “I thought it sucked donkey then, but I wasn’t ten and my parents didn’t die like your mom did. And then Phil took me in not too long after. He’s the best dad I’ve ever had. In retrospect I kinda think I had it good.” 

“My dad’s in jail, not dead.” Bruce bit his lip.

“Don’t.” Tony nudged him with his shoulder. “You’ll make it bleed.” 

“You sound like Wanda.”

“She’s a smart cookie.” Tony looked out the doorway. “Is he letting _Steve_ drive my car?” 

Bruce looked out to see Steve stepping out of Tony’s very fancy silver car that he’d parked in the drop-off area of the front entrance. A Ford Flex pulled up behind it and Phil got out. He went over to speak to Steve. “Looks like your ride’s here.” 

“Yeah,” Tony sighed. Suddenly he pulled out his phone. “I know you don’t have a phone, but let me put your email in my contacts! You can check your email at Nick and Melinda’s, and maybe instant message? I mean, I know Pietro probably won’t be sick for long, but we could Skype…”

Bruce took the phone from him and managed to insert his email one-handed. “For sure I’ll keep in touch.” 

Tony took back his phone, looking uncharacteristically tentative. “Promise?”

“Yes,” Bruce said with certainty. “We’re friends.” 

“Brothers, actually,” Tony said seriously. “Phil’s your guardian now. We’re brothers.” 

“Oh.”

“Here he comes.” Tony held out his arms. “C’mon. Give me some love.” 

Bruce hugged him, holding him as tightly as he would Pietro or Wanda. 

“Watch the cast,” Tony muttered. 

“You watch yours,” Bruce muttered back. He leaned his chin against Tony’s shoulder. “We’re the same height.” 

“I’m better looking.” 

Bruce laughed, but then he grew solemn. “Thank you, Tony,” he whispered. “Thanks for everything.” 

“That’s what family’s for,” Tony said.

* * *

Natasha had just finished helping Clint mix up the cornbread when Steve walked through the door.

“Hey!” Clint said brightly, “I didn’t know you guys were back!”

“Uh, yeah.” Steve hoisted his backpack further up onto his shoulder. He tilted his head towards the door. “Tony and Dad’re back too. They’re outside talking with Sam.” His eyes drifted around the living room. “Where’s Bucky?”

“Like you care,” Natasha sneered at him. 

Steve looked like she’d slapped him. “What?”

Natasha continued to glare at him. “You heard me.”

Steve fingered the strap of his backpack. “Of course I care! Why would you think I don’t?”

“Oh I don’t know.” She tapped her chin, pretending to think. “Maybe because of the cowardly note you left when you snuck out like a coward this morning?” 

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not a coward.” 

She put her hands on her hips. “You’re right. That’s probably too nice a word.” 

“Tash?” Clint’s eyes were wide. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure that Steve understands how much his dick move this morning hurt Bucky,” she said, not taking her eyes off her brother. 

“If it hurt _Bucky,_ “ Steve said, “then I should be talking to him about it. Not you.” He turned back towards the stairs. “So if you’ll excuse me—”

“It hurt us, too,” Clint blurted.

Natasha turned to stare at him. 

Clint’s hands were clenched into fists. “Me and Tash.” Clint’s voice was wavering but he was still looking right at Steve. “When you just left like that, and—and said you were joining the army without even asking us. It hurt. It hurt a lot.” 

Steve licked his lips. “I’m sorry”. I’m really sorry that it hurt you. But it’s my decision.”

“No it’s not!” Clint took Natasha’s hand. “You’re part of _our_ family. You don’t get to make those decisions by yourself!” 

“Yes I do!” Steve objected. “It’s my life and therefore my decisions. I can choose to do what I want. It doesn’t involve you!”

Natasha opened her mouth to argue, but then shut it again. It was exactly what Pepper had explained to her the night before. She turned to Clint. “Steve’s right.” 

Clint was clearly not happy with her supporting Steve. “How can you say that?”

“It is his life. He can leave us, and Phil, and Bucky without worrying about how we feel if he wants.” Steve winced as she said that but she ignored it, focussing on Clint instead. 

“But….” Clint started.

“There’s no ‘buts,’” Natasha sighed. “His life, his rules.”

“Thank you for understanding,” Steve said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“Just like we can make any decisions we want for ourselves,” Natasha carried on like Steve hadn’t spoken. “Which is why I’ve also decided to join the army.” She crossed her arms and glared at her brother. 

Steve blinked. “What?”

“I’m going to join the army,” she said again, her snap decision feeling more right the more she thought about it. “That way you won’t have to go alone.”

“Yeah!” Clint crossed his arms beside her. “Me too! We’re going to join together. With you.” 

Steve shook his head. “No, you’re not.” 

“Why not?” Natasha looked at Clint. “You decided to join. Why can’t we?”

“You’re too young,” Steve said instantly. “You have to be at least seventeen to join, and that’s with parental consent. Neither one of you are seventeen yet, but even if you were, Phil would never sign off.” 

“I turn seventeen in January,” Clint said with confidence. “And Phil would sign for me if it meant I was with you.” 

“And I’ll sign up in November of next year, as soon as I turn seventeen,” Natasha chimed in. “You guys will be a bit ahead of me, but not by much. I’m sure I could get assigned to your unit.” 

“But you can’t,” Steve said emphatically. “You have plans! Natasha, you want to be a police officer—”

“I’ll be a soldier instead.”

“And Clint, don’t you want to be a vet tech? You can’t do that in the army!” 

Clint shrugged. “I could probably be a sniper or something. My aim is really good.”

“No! Clint, Natasha, you can’t!”

“Why not?” Natasha said with feigned innocence. “You are.”

“Because…because….”

“Yeah,” Clint said. “Why can’t I become a sniper?”

“Because it’s not what you guys want,” Steve said plaintively. 

Clint tilted his head. “I thought you wanted to be a nurse.”

“And to be with Bucky,” Natasha added quietly. “Wasn’t that something you wanted too?”

Steve opened his mouth as if he was going to respond, but then just sighed. He dropped his head. “Yeah.”

“What happened?” Natasha put her hand on his arm. “Why are you leaving everything behind?”

“Why are you leaving _us_ behind?” Clint asked. 

“We love you,” Natasha said. “We don’t want you to go.”

Steve smirked, but there was no humour in it. “You don’t have to say that.”

“Don’t have to say what?” Natasha was taken aback. “That we love you?”

“But we do,” Clint insisted. “Why wouldn’t we say it?”

“Just stop it, alright?” Steve shook off Natasha’s arm. “Just stop!”

Clint looked at Natasha. “Stop _what?_ “

“Saying that you love me!” Steve yelled. “I am so sick and tired of _everyone_ saying that when they don’t mean it! So stop, okay? Just stop!”

Natasha felt like she’d been slapped. A quick glance at Clint told her he felt the same. “You don’t believe us?”

Steve looked away, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “I don’t know what to believe.” 

“You’re an idiot. You’re an _idiot!_ You’re a stupid fucking _IDIOT_ and—and you don’t deserve to be in our family!” Clint bolted from the room to the outside.

Steve didn’t get a chance to react to Clint’s departure. Natasha shoved him, hard enough for him to cry out and have to take a step back to regain his balance. Which, of course, was exactly when Phil and Sam walked in.

* * *

Phil’s glare could’ve melted glass. “Sit.” 

Obediently Natasha sat down on one end of the couch, Steve on the other. Clint, who’d been dragged back in by Phil, was sitting in between the two of them, as far away as he could get from Steve without actually sitting on Natasha. 

Tony had ambled in behind the Sam-Phil-Clint grouping, surprising Natasha with the very pink cast on his right arm. He’d quickly explained that he’d broken it on a chair, but it was obvious that the rest of the story would have to wait. 

“Am I in trouble too?” Tony asked, his smile was totally uncertain.

“Not unless you want to be,” Phil said. 

“It’s always refreshing when it’s not me!” Tony exclaimed. Phil just looked at him. “I’m going to go see Pepper in the barn.” Tony practically ran out. 

Natasha dropped her gaze from Phil’s angry glower, feeling both guilty and strangely proud for not having hit Steve. She’d wanted to, but at the last second she’d remembered Clint telling her that hitting someone you loved was wrong. She loved Steve. As strongly and as fiercely as if he really were her flesh-and-blood brother. 

Even if he didn’t believe her. 

“So,” Sam said. Unlike their dad, Sam looked open and friendly. “Who wants to start?”

Predictably, no one said anything.

Phil took a breath. “Steve, I saw you getting pushed by Natasha. Care to enlighten me as to why?”

“Mr. Coulson,” Steve sighed. “Aren’t we all a little old for this?”

“This isn’t punishment,” Sam said before Phil could react. “We’re just trying to figure out what happened.”

“Although I’m not above punishment if that’s what it’s going to take to get to the bottom of this,” Phil said to Steve. “Because I’m still not happy with the way you left this morning.”

“Phil,” Sam said, “I forgot I left the steaks cooking on the barbeque. Would you mind checking?”

A muscle twitched in Phil’s jaw, but he nodded curtly before heading outside. 

Sam exhaled audibly as he watched Phil leave. “So, he’s really pissed.”

“Yeah, well, he can join the club,” Clint said. 

“Oh?” Sam raised his eyebrows. “Why’re you angry, Clint?” 

“No reason.”

“Okay I get that you’re not sure why you’re angry. So, if you had to guess…” Sam let his voice trail off as he looked at Clint.

Clint took a breath. “Maybe because Steve thinks I’m a liar?”

Steve immediately sat up straight. “I never said you were a liar!” 

“Oh yeah?” Clint whirled on him. “I told you I loved you and you told me I didn’t mean it! To my _face!_ “

“I never called you a liar!” Steve repeated. “So don’t you dare say I did!”

“Wait.” Sam held up his hands. “Let me get this straight. Clint, you told Steve that you loved him?”

“Yeah,” Clint said immediately. “Me and Tash. We both did.” 

“We did. Just before,” Natasha agreed.

“Okay. And Steve, you thought they didn’t mean it?”

Steve pressed his lips together. “Yes, Mr. Wilson. I’m pretty sure that’s the case.” 

“It’s just Sam, Steve,” Sam said gently. “You’re safe here.” 

Steve nodded. “Yessir.” 

Sam huffed out a small laugh. “Steve,” he said again. “Can you tell me and your siblings why you think they don’t mean it when they say they love you?”

“Oh, I think they _think_ they mean it. Which is why I didn’t call them liars. No matter what they think I did.” 

“That’s an interesting distinction. What’s the difference between thinking you mean something and actually meaning it?”

Steve shifted in his seat. “It’s kind of like, if you think you mean something, you don’t really mean it. Not really. Not deep down.” 

Sam hummed. “So, if I understand you correctly, Clint and Natasha _think_ they love you, but they don’t _actually_ love you? Did I get that right?”

“That’s not true!” Clint stood, his hands clenched into fists. Natasha put her hand on his forearm and gave it a little squeeze. 

“Why isn’t that true?” Sam said. 

“Because of what you said!” Clint said to Sam. “You told me that I was the one who knew what I was feeling best! That no one could tell me if what I was feeling was real or not. Only I got to say that. Me!” He turned back to Steve. “So you don’t get to tell me what I’m feeling! _You don’t get to tell me that!_ “ 

“You feel pretty strongly about this,” Sam said to Clint.

“Yes I do!” Clint shouted back. 

“I can understand how you might,” Sam said thoughtfully. Clint nodded and sat back down, even closer to Natasha than before.

“Natasha, what do you think about what Steve said?” Sam asked her.

“I think Steve’s a fucking idiot.” 

“What? You’re going to let her talk to me like that?”

“She’s telling me what she feels,” Sam said to Steve. “And, while I would prefer she not swear, she’s obviously feeling pretty strongly about this. And she needs to know her feelings are being heard.” He turned back to Natasha. “So, why do you feel that Steve’s being a ‘fucking idiot’ right now?” 

“Because he’s trying to deny what’s right in front of his face. He knows Clint and I love him. He _knows_ that. He just doesn’t want to see it so he can run off to join the military without having to feel guilty.” Natasha purposely looked at Steve when she said the last part, and was gratified to see him blush. 

“That’s not it,” Steve muttered. 

“So what is it then?” Natasha demanded. “Why are you pretending to believe that Clint and I don’t care about you? Why?”

“I’m not pretending!” Steve yelled. “I know you don’t!”

“I think there’s been a lot of evidence to the contrary,” Sam said to Steve. “I’ve heard both your brother and sister say quite plainly that they love you, and that you’re wrong to think otherwise. But I also hear you saying that you don’t think it can be true. Where does that idea come from?” 

“ _Because nobody loves me!_ “ Steve exploded. “Because my _mother walked away from me_ when I was _begging_ her to stay! And if _she_ didn’t love me enough then there’s no fucking way that anyone else could!” He leaned forward, resting his forehead against his forearms and began to cry.

Natasha and Clint looked at each other. All of Natasha’s anger fled. “Steve,” She said, her hands hovering over his shoulders, unsure if she should touch. 

Sam cleared his throat, drawing Clint and Natasha’s attention. “How ‘bout you two give us a minute, okay?” 

“Okay.” Natasha grabbed Clint’s hand and they ran upstairs.

* * *

“Tony!” Pepper turned from where she’d been standing by one of the stalls in the barn, feeding her horse apples.

“Hi,” Tony said. It was evening now and the sky outside was lit up with the fiery colours of sunset. They were coming through the windows of the barn, illuminating Pepper’s hair and caressing her skin. “Damn, you’re beautiful.” 

“You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Stark.” She smiled and grasped his hands in hers, then she felt his cast and looked at him in concern. “Tony?”

He grinned, all ready to give her a flip response, but then he sighed. “Bruce threw a chair and I tried to block it.” 

“Someone threw a chair at you? Tony!”

“Bruce—Robert. The guy from biology class?” When Pepper nodded he kept going. “Robert’s real name is Bruce. He was waiting in the hallway outside our apartment—”

“Oh my God. Was he stalking you? Did he try to _kill_ you?” Pepper reached for her phone. “We need to call the cops right now!”

“No, wait.” Tony stopped her hands. “He wasn’t stalking me, and he certainly didn’t try to kill me. But you were right. He is dangerous. To himself, mostly, and he wasn’t actually _trying_ to hurt me. But my wrist was kind of collateral damage to his breathtaking anger management issues. So, yeah.” He looked at her through his eyelashes. “I just wanted you to know.” 

“So what does that mean? Are you giving up being friends with him?”

“No,” Tony said simply. “Kind of the opposite, in fact.” 

“So let me get this straight,” she said slowly. “Robert—whose real name is Bruce—wasn’t trying to hurt you, but he lost his temper and threw a chair at you?”

“Not _at_ me. But near me. I then tried to knock out of the way of someone else.”

“So he was trying to hurt someone _else?_ “

“His sister. He wasn’t trying to hurt her!” Tony said desperately in response to Pepper’s horrified expression. “He threw the chair and she ended up being in its flightpath so I tried to knock it out of the way and it hit my wrist and it broke.” 

“Oh my God.” Pepper’s horrified expression hadn’t changed at all. “Is his sister okay? Why was he trying to hurt her?”

“He wasn’t trying….” Tony scrubbed his face with his un-casted hand. “Let me start from the beginning, okay?”

“Okay,” Pepper said warily. “Please.” 

Tony took a breath and told her everything, starting with leaving with Steve that morning and ending with saying goodbye to Bruce in the foyer of the hospital. She was very quiet while he spoke. 

“It, um, it was really good to hug him like that,” Tony said after Pepper’s silence had continued past what seemed like normal conversation. “Like he was a real brother. You know? Well, of course you know. Because you actually _have_ a real brother. Well it was like that. Maybe? Because I don’t really know what it’s like for you to hug your brother. Do you hug your brother? Because—”

“Tony. Stop talking.” 

He shut up.

She sighed. “Look. I get it. I see how much you like this guy, and how much he means to you, and how, especially with Phil adopting him and everything, he’s going to be a big part of your life. But he broke your wrist. And I know he didn’t mean to…” She held up her hand to stop his automatic protest. “But he still hurt you, Tony. And what if the chair had hit your head instead? I just don’t feel comfortable with this. And I know there’s nothing I can do about it, but the fact that Bruce is going to be around you a whole lot worries me. I just need to know you’ll be safe.” 

“He’s very aware that he’s got these issues. And so am I, and so is Phil.” Tony picked up her hand. “And contrary to popular belief, I don’t actually _like_ getting hurt.” He looked deeply into her eyes, hoping she’d see how serious he was. “I won’t just stand by and let him hurt me—or anyone—again. He’ll get help or I’ll cut him off. I promise.” 

Pepper looked at him intently, her gaze holding tight with his own. “Okay. I trust you.” 

He let out a breath. “Thank you. You won’t regret it.”

“If something happens to you because of him, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.” 

“It won’t,” he said fervently. “I promise.”

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you, too.” He leaned in and kissed her.

* * *

“What were you guys shouting about?”

Bucky came out of the room he shared with Tony when he heard Natasha and Clint come up the stairs, putting his headphones around his neck. He’d been listening to music and reading since his conversation with Sam that afternoon, just trying to get out of his own head for a while.

Sam had helped him feel a bit calmer about Steve’s taking off that morning, but he was still hurt and angry. Sam had suggested that Bucky talk to Steve about it when Steve got back, and if the screaming he’d heard was any indication, his idiot of a boyfriend had finally come home.

“Steve’s back,” Clint immediately confirmed Bucky’s suspicions. “He’s downstairs with Sam.” 

“Good. I need to talk with him.” He wasn’t comfortable with it. Talking hadn’t been something he’d really done in a long while. But both Clint and Sam had said that Bucky needed to let Steve know how he felt, and he trusted them. Maybe it was time he gave it a try.

Natasha stopped him going to the stairs. “I don’t think it’s a good time. He was crying before we came up.” 

“Crying?” 

Clint nodded. “Yeah. Crying a lot.” 

“Why?” Bucky looked between Natasha and Clint. “Was it because you guys were fighting?”

“He’s crying because he doesn’t think his mother loved him because she left him,” Natasha said.

“She left him so he could get his operation. He told us that last winter. How does that mean she didn’t love him?” 

“I don’t know,” Natasha said. “But he’s really upset.” 

“Yeah. He said that, because his mother didn’t really love him, no one else does, either.” Clint looked crestfallen. 

Bucky shook his head in disbelief. “That doesn’t make any sense!”

“It’s Steve,” Natasha scoffed. “Almost nothing he does makes sense.”

“Yeah, like wanting to join the army and just leaving. What's up with that?” Clint said. 

“He really thinks no one actually loves him?” Bucky asked again. “Then why does he think I’m so upset that he went to New York?”

Clint and Natasha both looked at him. “You’re upset he went to New York?” She asked. 

“Of course! He’s so far away, and I barely see him. Of course I’m upset! I’m all torn up about it.”

Clint tilted his head. “Is that why you’ve stopped talking to him?”

Bucky looked at Clint. “I haven’t stopped talking to him.”

Clint and Natasha looked at each other, and then looked back at him. 

“You’ve totally stopped talking to him,” Clint said. “You don’t Skype or text him or anything.”

“Because I don’t know what to say to him. He’s gone all the time and….” Bucky dropped his gaze. 

“I’m pretty sure that Steve doesn’t know you’re upset that he’s gone to New York,” Clint said. 

“How could he not?” Bucky said, confused. “I mean, he left! He’s gotta know that’s not going to make me happy.”

Natasha made a face. “How would he know that if you don’t tell him anything?” 

“Because he’s my boyfriend?” Bucky snapped. “He should just know.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

Bucky bobbed his head back. “What?”

“I told Steve he was an idiot. Downstairs when we were fighting. But that was before you just said what you said and proved you’re an even bigger idiot than he is. He doesn’t believe anyone loves him and you actually believe that Steve can read your mind. You’re both so stupid you’re perfect for each other.”

“What?” Bucky demanded. “Where do you get off calling us stupid?”

Clint’s eyes were bouncing back and forth between the two of them. “Uh, I think she’s trying to say that Steve didn’t really get the fact that you were upset with him for going to New York.”

“Because he can’t read your mind,” Natasha said pointedly. 

“Of course he knows I'm upset about it!“

“And I _know_ he doesn’t. Why do you think he's leaving to join the army, dummy?” Natasha said.

“Those two things aren’t even related! Who’s being stupid now?”

“You’re not talking to him. He probably thinks you want to break up with him, so he’s leaving you before you can leave him.” Her eye roll was epic. “Dummy.”

Clint nodded. “That’s what I would do.” 

Bucky gaped at them both. “You’re serious.” 

“He doesn’t think anyone loves him,” Clint said. “He just said so downstairs. And you haven’t been talking to him since he went to school, so he probably thinks you don’t love him, either. So why wouldn’t he want to leave before stuff gets worse?”

“But I have been talking to him!” Bucky insisted.

“No you haven’t,” Natasha said while Clint nodded. “No matter what you _think_ you’ve been doing? You haven’t.”

Bucky shook his head. “No. The army thing isn’t because he thinks I’m not talking to him. It can’t be.” 

“Of course it is,” Natasha insisted. “How can you say otherwise?”

“Because he didn’t say _anything_ about going to the army until this weekend!” Bucky said triumphantly. “You say I stopped talking to him when he left in September—which I didn’t— but the army only happened last night.” 

“That’s actually true,” Clint said. 

Natasha looked at Bucky suspiciously. “What did you do?”

“Me?” Bucky said, affronted. “I didn’t do anything!” 

She crossed her arms. “Why do I find that hard to believe?”

“I didn’t _do_ anything,” Bucky said again. He turned to Clint. “Tell her, Clint. You and I were hanging out this week. Tell her the army thing has nothing to do with me.” 

Clint shrugged. “Bucky’s right,” he said. “All we did this week beside class was hang out and practice our archery and talk about school and stuff.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed. “I was trying out that prosthetic Tony made for my bow. You were there.” 

“I know,” Natasha said. “So what else happened? Hanging out, archery, school….”

“Bucky decided to go to college with me in Poughkeepsie!” Clint grinned. 

“Damn straight!” Bucky and Clint shared a fist-bump.

“You told me,” Natasha said. “You want to study engineering science.”

“See?” Bucky said. “I didn’t do anything to make Steve want to leave to join the army.” His face fell. “He just doesn’t care.” 

Natasha was still looking at him. “But you were planning on going to Maria Stark University with Steve and Tony and Pepper for engineering.” 

“Well, yeah,” Bucky said, eyes still down. “But then Clint and I were talking and it just made more sense. I like school fine—with Ms. Carter and Mr. Odinson and Ms. Foster, but it was really hard for me before I got here. There were so many other students, and they all wanted to _talk…._ “ He swallowed. He had _hated_ going to school when he hadn’t been able to talk. Everyone either completely ignored him or got up in his face. Even though he was more comfortable speaking now, he wasn’t sure he was ready to face four years of classes with total strangers. 

“He’d get to live at home. With me and you and Phil.” Clint put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder and Bucky smiled gratefully at him. Clint got his headspace. 

“And how did Steve feel about this change of plan?” Natasha asked. “I thought he was pretty excited about you going to live with him in New York.” 

“We haven’t talked about it,” Bucky mumbled. “I only texted him last week.” 

Natasha’s eyebrows shot up. “So you haven’t talked to him?” 

“No. I haven’t had the chance!”

“Steve found out you weren’t going to New York next year by text?” Clint asked. He and Natasha were both looking at him. “And you haven’t _talked_ to him?”

“I just said that,” Bucky said. He was getting annoyed with the constant repetition of questions. “What’s your point?”

“And when did Steve decide he just had to run away and join the army?” Natasha asked. 

“This weekend—” Bucky’s eyes grew round. “Oh shit.” He looked at Clint. “He’s running away before I can break up with him.” 

Clint was nodding. “That’s what I would do.”

* * *

“That’s really sad,” Sam said.

Steve nodded, wiping his eyes again with the wad of tissues in his hand. He’d been through half a box already.

They’d moved from the living room into Phil’s office and they were now sitting across from each other in the big armchairs. Steve had made a pile of damp tissues on Phil's desk. 

“I can’t stop crying. Why can’t I stop crying?”

“Because it’s really sad?” Sam said. “Your mom left you in the care of CPS when you were twelve and the next time you saw her she was dying in hospital. That seems like it’d be worth a few tears.”

Steve nodded miserably but then shook his head. “I cried when it happened. I should be done by now.” He wiped his eyes again.

Sam shrugged. “Maybe you weren’t crying about everything you needed to cry about.” 

“I think crying at her funeral was kind of ‘everything I needed to cry about'.” 

“I didn’t say it wasn’t,” Sam said gently. “But maybe there was more there too, you know?”

“Like what?” Steve threw up his hands. “My mother died and I scattered her ashes in the ocean and I cried. What else would there be?”

“Well, there’s that whole ‘she didn’t love me’ thing you were talking about before.” 

Steve’s instantaneous response was to deny it. Wanda, the only other person he’d ever discussed it with, had called him stupid for it. He found himself nodding wretchedly instead. 

“That’s sad, too,” Sam said. “Really sad. Definitely something worth crying about.” 

Steve nodded again, tears falling faster than he could dry them. He grabbed another handful of tissues. “This sucks.” 

“It does. So, what happened to cause you to think your mother didn’t love you?”

“She left me. She took me to the CPS offices and just walked away.” Steve choked out the story he’d told Wanda to Sam in between sobs, ending with the description of his mother leaving while he begged her not to go.

After he was finished Sam was very quiet. “Wow,” he said finally. “It makes total sense to me that you’d feel your mother didn’t love you.”

“Yeah.” Steve grabbed yet another handful of tissues, leaving a third wet pile on Phil’s desk. “It was the worst thing. Watching her walk away, knowing she wasn’t coming back.” He covered his eyes with the tissues, tears flowing like a river.

“I can’t even imagine.” 

Steve nodded. He remembered that day, sharp as a knife. “It was like something broke inside me. It sounds corny, but I’ve always thought it was my heart, you know? Like even though the surgery fixed it, it was always broken afterwards. Just…broken.” 

“It’s really hard to love someone with a broken heart.”

“Yeah.” Steve wiped at his eyes and then his throat. The collar of his shirt was soaked through. 

“And it would be really hard to believe _anyone_ would love you, after your mother betrayed you like that.” 

“Yeah. I mean, she’s my mom, right? She’s meant to love me best of all.” That confession brought yet another onslaught of tears. 

“But she left you behind,” Sam said. “Breaking your heart while she was trying to fix it.” 

Steve chuffed out a small laugh from Sam’s description. “Sounds about right.”

“I got a question. What would’ve happened if your mom hadn’t left you?”

Steve laughed again. “Funny. Bruce’s sister asked me the same thing this morning.”

Sam smiled. “Sounds like a smart lady.” 

“She called me stupid,” Steve said. He wiped his eyes yet again. 

“Why did she do that?”

“Because I told her what I’m telling you. That I probably would’ve died if I hadn’t gotten that operation. That my mother’s decision saved my life.” 

“Okay,” Sam said slowly. “So why did she call you stupid?”

“Because I told her that my…my mother didn’t love me,” Steve said, and _dammit_ the tears were back full-force. “That she was probably happy to get rid of me. Because I was a burden.” 

“And she thought you were stupid for believing that?” Sam’s voice was gentle. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I know I was no treat when I was a child. I was small and sick and…and difficult, and I was always getting into fights. We never had enough money for anything because of my health problems, and I’m sure my mom knew I was gay since forever!” He repeated the same rationale he’d given Wanda just that morning, but it hurt just as much to say it out loud a second time. Maybe more. He cleaned the tears off his cheeks. “Can I have more tissues?”

Wordlessly Sam handed him another box. “And you think all those reasons meant she didn’t love you?” 

“Yes?” Steve said. “No? I don’t know!” He dissolved into even more tears. 

“If you had to guess….” 

Steve looked at him. “You used that same technique on Clint.” 

“Because it works.” Sam smiled. “So?”

Steve swallowed. “I think it would be really hard to love a kid like that.” 

“I wonder if your mother thought it was hard,” Sam said musingly. “I wonder if, after you were born, your mother might’ve held you in her arms and thought that this small, sickly boy was the most miraculous thing that ever happened to her.” 

“My mom said I was premature,” Steve said in response to the mental images Sam’s words had created. “She said I was born too early, and I was really small and none of the doctors thought I was going to survive. They actually told her to leave me in the hospital and go home to plan the funeral.” 

“What did she do?”

Steve smiled at the memory of his mother telling him the story in her lilting Irish accent. “She told them to fuck off, took off her shirt so I’d get her body heat, and strapped me to her chest with one of the hospital blankets and just walked out of there. She said she had to feed me with her baby finger until I understood how to suck milk on my own.” 

Sam smiled. “And why did she do that?”

“I know you want me to say that it’s because she loved me. But she left me, Sam. _She left me._ How could she do that?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said. “But then again, I don’t know how she could’ve stayed up night and day to feed a tiny baby with just her little finger. So I’m gonna need you to tell me. How do you think she was able to leave you there?”

Steve thought. He thought about his mother and the stories she’d told him about his birth, and how hard she fought to keep him alive. He remembered being little and bloody and bruised from a fight, or short of breath and blue-lipped from his bad heart, and how she was always there for him. Cleaning his wounds and giving him medicine; singing him songs and rocking him to sleep. 

_I’m proud of you,_ she’d said when he’d come home yet again with torn jeans and a bloody nose from standing up for someone else. 

_I love you,_ she’d said a thousand times when they’d been together. _I love you_ she’d said that one, final time when she’d been dying in the hospital. Before she’d been lost to him forever. 

_I love you,_ she’d said. _I love you._

“I don’t think she could,” Steve sobbed. “I think she left me and it killed her. Just like Wanda said.”

“Why couldn’t she leave you?” Sam said, caring and insistent all at once.

“Because she loved me.” Steve was crying so hard he could barely speak. 

“Because she loved you,” Sam said. “Your mother loved you, Steve.” 

“Yeah,” Steve wept. “I know.”

* * *

Dinner was a much more somber event than normal.

Phil had finished grilling the steaks, baked the cornbread batter Clint and Natasha made and had even prepared a salad by the time Sam and Steve finished their session in his study. 

At some point Bucky had wandered down the stairs, headphones around his neck and Phil put him to work setting the table. They’d worked together in silence, which Phil had very much appreciated. He was certainly in no mood for talking.

Steve and Sam had finally emerged and Phil had seen Bucky visibly stiffen with Steve’s appearance. Steve's eyes were bloodshot and puffy and his shirt collar was damp a third of the way down his chest. He looked pale and wrung out and like he’d crack if anyone said anything to him more emotional than ‘hello.’ 

Phil had sent him upstairs to clean up before Bucky even opened his mouth. Whatever Bucky needed to talk to Steve about, and Phil was sure there were lots of things, it could wait until after everyone had eaten. 

Steve brought Clint and Natasha down with him, and after Natasha’s text, Pepper and Tony came back from the barn. 

Phil cut up Tony and Bucky’s steak for them while everyone was washing up and getting settled around the table and then it was finally time to eat. 

“This cornbread is awesome!” Tony exclaimed around a mouthful. “Clint, you make this?”

Clint beamed at him. “Natasha helped.” 

“It’s awesome,” Tony repeated. “And the steaks are great. What a great dinner. I’m so glad we’re home.” He looked at Steve. “Aren’t you glad we’re home?”

Steve smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah,” he said softly. He was only picking at his meal.

“The food is good.” Sam raised his beer bottle in Phil’s direction. “Thanks for inviting me.” 

“Thanks for all your help today,” Phil said in return. “It was very kind of you to give up your Saturday for us.” 

“My pleasure.” 

The table fell into silence. 

Pepper cleared her throat. “So, Tony told me you saved someone’s life today, Steve. I’d really like to hear that story.” 

Clint’s head snapped up. “You did?”

Steve shook his head, still poking at his food. “I didn’t really do anything. It was all Tony.” 

“Steve identified that a young man was sick enough to require hospitalization,” Phil said as he passed the plate of cornbread to Tony. “I wouldn’t really say that wasn’t doing anything.”

“It wasn’t that big a deal,” Steve said. “Honest.” 

Clint looked around the table. “What happened?”

Tony briefly told the story of Bruce and his siblings, pausing intermittently to field questions from the others. “So Bruce and Wanda are staying with Nick and Melinda while Pietro’s still in hospital,” he finished. 

“Poor Bruce!” Clint shuddered. “Nick’s gonna kill him.” 

“Nick’s not so bad,” Natasha said as she took some salad. Clint, Tony and Bucky all looked at her. She shrugged. “He’s always been nice to me.”

“You’re a girl,” Tony said flatly. “Nick will have problems with Bruce even if he’s perfect. Wanda will be fine.”

“What’s she like?” Pepper asked Tony. “Is she like Bruce?”

“She’s really small. Like Natasha, but with dark brown hair although her eyes are green, too. And she’s really pale. She speaks with a Sokovian accent and she’s fierce and tough. She’s also somewhat angry. So yeah, maybe like Bruce.” Tony tilted his head towards Steve. “You’ll have to ask Steve what she’s really like, though. He spent more time with her.” 

Everyone looked at Steve. 

“She’s suffered a lot of loss,” Steve said quietly. “Pietro being sick is really hard on her.” 

“But he’ll be okay, right?” Clint looked at Phil. “He’s not going to die?”

“No.” Phil smiled reassuringly at Clint. “Steve got him to hospital in time. He’ll need a chance to recover but he should be fine.” 

“I think…I think it’s great. That you did that.” Bucky looked up from his plate and met Steve’s gaze across the table. 

Steve blinked. “Thanks.” His smile was small, but it was real.

Quiet settled on them all again. 

“What’s going to happen to them now? After Pietro gets better?” Clint asked. 

Natasha looked thoughtfully at Phil. “You’re planning on adopting them, aren’t you?”

“I am,” Phil agreed, taking a sip of his beer. “At the very least I’ll be acting as their legal guardian until Bruce comes of age next year.”

“That’s so cool!” Clint beamed. “Are they gonna live here?”

“Pietro and Wanda will. They’ll be taking classes with you as well, and hopefully in time they’ll become part of our family.” 

“I just realized something.” Natasha said, letting her head drop forward. “I’m going to have to share my room.” 

Phil smiled kindly. “I’m afraid so.” 

“Wanda’s used to sharing,” Tony said. “We saw their apartment. There’s probably more room in your bedroom than their entire place.”

“Do you think she speaks Russian?” Natasha asked Phil. “Sokovia used to be part of the former Soviet Union. Maybe we could talk Russian together, like I do with Pepper.” She grinned at the idea.

“Probably,” Tony responded. “She and her brother only got to the U.S. after the Uprising, so yeah.” 

Sam frowned. “I’m sorry to hear they had to live through that.” 

“I’m sure they’ll need your services as well,” Phil said to Sam. Sam nodded his understanding. 

“They were orphaned in the Uprising,” Steve said quietly. “Wanda told me. It sounded really bad.” 

“Yeah, and my dearly departed dad’s company had a lot to do with it.” Tony frowned at his salad. “Chalk up another immoral decision on the part of my father.” 

“Pietro can share my room,” Clint said. 

“I’d like Bruce and Pietro to room together,” Phil said. “They consider themselves brothers. I think being together would make their adjustment easier.” 

“Okay,” Tony said, “Steve moves in with Clint, Bucky stays with me, which frees up one room for Bruce and Pietro.” He grinned. “Easy.” 

“I’m going to the army, remember?” Steve said to his plate. “They can have my room. Clint won’t have to share.”

“You can’t seriously still be thinking about going?” Tony said angrily. “Haven’t you gotten it through your thick skull that no one wants you to go?”

“Actually, Clint and I do want him to go,” Natasha said. “Because that way we can join the army with him,” 

Tony gaped at her. “ _What?_ “

Phil put down his fork. “I beg your pardon?”

“We’re going to join the army,” Natasha repeated as Clint nodded. “As soon as we turn seventeen. So we can go with Steve.” She watched Steve as she spoke, waiting for his reaction.

“The army?” Pepper said to Natasha. “Really?”

“Yes. We don’t want him to be alone.” 

“Yeah,” Clint added. He was watching Steve too.

Steve put his utensils down and was looking back at Clint and Natasha, his throat working. 

“That makes a lot of sense, actually,” Tony said. He glanced at Pepper and she gave him a tiny nod. “Since Steve won’t change his mind, I’ll join too, when he goes. Give him some company in basic.” He grinned. “You know I’ll rock that uniform.” 

“Maybe I will as well, actually.” Pepper tapped her bottom lip with her finger. “I’ve always been very good with logistics.”

“You’d be brilliant at military intelligence.” Sam grinned at her. He flashed a glance at Phil, who smiled back. Phil was very moved at how they were showing Steve they loved him. 

“Thank you,” Pepper said primly. She looked over to Steve, who had his hands clenched around the edge of the table. “I’d be happy to do anything to make sure my friend is okay.”

“I can’t join,” Bucky said softly. He raised his left arm to show everyone the edge of his sleeve pinned over his stump. 

“Civilian support,” Sam said immediately. “I’m sure there’re lots of things you could do.” 

Bucky smiled gratefully at him. 

“I don’t understand,” Steve spoke finally. “What’re you guys doing?”

“Making sure you’re going to be safe,” Natasha said mater-of-factly. 

“We’re making sure you won’t be alone,” Clint said. 

“Moral support.” Pepper smiled.

“What they said.” Tony grinned. “Plus someone’s gotta buy the drinks at the canteen. Isn’t that what it’s called? The canteen?”

“Because we love you,” Bucky said. “Because I love you.” His voice cracked. “I don’t want you to go.” 

Steve’s gaze went to everyone around the table. “But….” 

“We love you,” Natasha said. “Whether you believe it or not, it’s true. And if the only way to show you is by joining the army with you, then that’s what we’re going to do.” 

Clint was nodding in agreement. “You’re my big brother. Barney wasn’t anything like you. He wasn’t kind or gentle or nice like you at all. You’re my real eldest brother.”

“You’re the only eldest brother I’ve ever had, and I love you,” Tony echoed.

“You’re my friend. One of my _best_ friends,” Pepper said. “And I love you.” 

“I love you,” Bucky said softly. “So damn much.” 

Steve looked helplessly at Phil, and then at Sam. “What do I do?” 

Sam smiled at him. “What do you want to do, Steve?”

Steve swallowed again as he looked at everyone, distress clear on his face. “I think…I think maybe I should stay?”

Phil beamed at Steve as the table erupted into happy noise. 

“Well thank God that’s been settled,” Tony said once the hubbub had quieted. “I look like shit in camouflage.”

“The pink stuff on your arm isn’t so bad.” Natasha grinned at him as she took a forkful of steak. 

“Tony looks great in Pink,” Pepper said loyally. “Of course I prefer it in satin….”

“Hey! You know those boxers are silk!” 

Pepper opened her mouth to retort when Steve spoke. 

“May I be excused?” he said, pushing away his plate. “I’m not very hungry.” He’d barely eaten anything.

“Of course.” Phil nodded at him, deciding to put the rest of Steve’s dinner away for him later. Steve thanked him and left, heading up the stairs.

Silence fell over the table yet again.

Bucky turned to look at Phil, the corner of his bottom lip between his teeth.

Phil nodded at him. “Go.” 

Bucky took off after Steve like a shot.

“If they don’t settle anything,” Natasha murmured as she speared another piece of steak, “I swear I’ll murder them in their sleep.” 

“Amen,” Clint said. 

And Phil was hard pressed not to agree.

* * *

“I’d like to be alone,” Steve said as the door opened. 

He was lying on his bed in his old room facing towards the window. It was mid-September and sunset came early. It wasn’t even seven o’clock, but the sky was brilliant with the soft pinks and oranges of the fading light. 

Steve had been trying to lose himself in the colours. He had hoped his artist’s brain would take over and he could just focus on the hues of twilight. But it hadn’t worked. 

“We need to talk,” Bucky said as he stepped into the room. He sat down on the edge of his bed, facing Steve. He looked sad and pensive and more beautiful than Steve had ever seen him. 

“About what?” Steve said tiredly. He felt completely exhausted from his discussion with Sam, and then from the bombardment he’d received from everyone about the army downstairs. He wasn’t sure in the end if he’d decided not to join because he’d been swayed by their actions or merely out of self-defence. He was far too drained to even begin to figure it out. 

“About us,” Bucky said. 

Steve closed his eyes. Of course Bucky would pick now for this conversation. “If you’re going to break up with me, just do it.” 

When Bucky didn’t say anything, Steve opened his eyes again. Bucky was still sitting across from him. The light from the window had already shifted, throwing Bucky into shadow. His hair was illuminated by the colours of the sunset, shining dark brown and auburn, bronze and chestnut.

“I don’t want to break up with you,” Bucky said finally. “I never did.” 

Steve rolled onto his back and covered his eyes with his forearm. “Well that’s good, I guess.”

“You 'guess'?” Bucky repeated. “Steve,” he said uncertainly, “do you want to break up with me?”

“I don’t know what I want right now,” Steve said truthfully. “Except maybe to sleep.” 

“Okay,” Bucky said softly. 

Steve sighed. He didn’t mean to hurt Bucky’s feelings, but he was so tired. He closed his eyes. 

He heard the soft sounds of cloth, and then a weight settled into the bed and on his chest. He lowered his arm and opened his eyes. “Bucky?” Bucky was nestled against him, his head on Steve’s collarbone and his arm across his torso. He’d levered his right leg up and over Steve’s thighs. His eyes were closed. “What’re you doing?”

“Sleeping with my boyfriend.” Bucky’s eyes stayed closed. “Shhh.”

Steve lay like that for a minute, feeling the comfortable weight of Bucky against him, the rise and fall of Bucky’s bare chest against his as they breathed. It felt amazing to have Bucky in his arms again, and some of Steve’s terrible emotional fatigue began to fade. 

Bucky splayed his hand across Steve’s ribs under his shirt. His fingers ghosted over the small ridge that was the only visible remnants of Steve’s heart surgery.

“I love this scar,” Bucky said quietly. 

“Yeah?” Steve murmured. He wrapped his arm around Bucky’s head, stroking through his hair. 

“This scar means you’re heart was fixed. I love it.” 

Steve swallowed. “I’m not sure how fixed my heart is, Buck.” 

Bucky raised himself up on his elbow and Steve looked into Bucky’s eyes, grey as a winter sky. “I love you.” 

“I really want to believe that.” 

“It’s true. And I’m sorry I haven’t been talking to you. It wasn’t on purpose. I didn’t even realize what I’d been doing until Natasha told me today.”

“It’s okay,” Steve sighed. “I should’ve figured it out earlier. It’s not like I didn’t know you don’t like talking.” 

“Natasha also told me that it might have made you think I didn’t love you.” Bucky’s voice was tentative. “Is that why you don’t believe me?”

_No one loves you,_ flashed through Steve’s mind. “I was talking with Sam today about when my mother left me with CPS. I always thought it meant she didn’t love me.”

“Of course she loved you!” Bucky said immediately. “She was your mother.” 

Steve smiled. “That’s probably true. But that’s not what I felt.” 

“You think your mother didn’t love you?”

“Not only that, but if she didn’t love me, then no one else could, either.” Steve’s throat tightened as he said it. Even after all his tears that afternoon he apparently still had more.

“Is that why Natasha told you we loved you, even if you didn’t believe it?” Bucky sat up, eyes wide. “Because you _don’t_ believe it?”

“Probably.” Steve sat up as well with his back against the headboard. 

“You don’t believe that I love you?” Bucky’s eyes were still wide. “Why?”

“Because you stopped talking to me, and I know you didn’t actually mean to, but it didn’t feel like that. And then you said you weren’t coming to New York to be with me but you wouldn’t tell me why.” Steve's eyes burned with yet more unshed tears. “You wouldn’t even talk to me about it! What did you think I’d believe?”

Bucky looked stricken with remorse. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but then he threw himself on Steve, straddling his hips and kissing him full on the lips. 

Steve thought about resisting; Bucky kissing him wasn’t any kind of answer. But he remembered what Phil had told him: that Bucky wasn’t very good with his words. 

So Steve listened to the language of Bucky’s body.

Bucky’s hand cupped the junction where Steve’s jaw linked with his neck. His thighs were around Steve’s hips, but it was obvious he wasn’t trying to initiate anything. He was just trying to show his love. 

Bucky wasn’t holding anything back. Steve could sense his vulnerability, could practically taste it where their tongues intertwined. Steve licked along Bucky’s teeth and touched the ridges of his palate with his tongue. It was intoxicating. Steve stroked his hands along Bucky’s back, carding his fingers through Bucky's hair, and running his palms down Bucky’s arms. 

When he reached the wounded end of Bucky’s left arm, Bucky didn’t flinch. He opened his eyes and looked at Steve, their breath mingling. The trust in Bucky’s eyes was humbling.

Steve touched Bucky’s arm, exploring the scarred end as gently as Bucky had traced Steve’s scar moments before. The skin was puckered beneath Steve’s fingertips, thick and unexpectedly soft. He moved his hand up Bucky’s arm to his shoulder and back down, feeling the muscles and skin, the ridges of old scars and the appealing solidity of bone. 

Bucky was still looking at him with those bottomless grey eyes. They reminded Steve of an ocean storm, or the sky before a rainfall. But there was nothing dark in them, nothing guarded or hidden. His eyes were telling Steve he loved him, as clearly as if Bucky had spoken it out loud. Steve held his gaze, unwilling to tear himself away. 

“Going to school in New York scares me,” Bucky said softly. “There’re too many people and too much _talking._ It scares me to even contemplate it. I don’t feel safe.” 

Steve blinked. “I didn’t even think about that.” 

“It’s not because I didn’t want to be with you. It was never that.”

“I just miss you so much,” Steve said. “It’s so hard to be away from you and I was really looking forward to you being in New York with me. It hurt a lot to get that text.” 

“I miss you too,” Bucky said fervently. “Every day. It hurt me a lot when you left.”

“I didn’t know that. I thought you were angry at me for something because you stopped talking to me. I didn’t know that you were upset because I’d gone to school.” 

“You stopped coming back on the weekends. I didn’t know why. That hurt even more.” 

“I thought you didn’t want to see me. I thought you were going to break up with me. It made me not want to come home.” 

Bucky chuffed out a laugh. “Natasha’s right. We are idiots.”

“Sadly, yes.” Steve grinned. He stroked Bucky’s face. “I don’t want to break up with you.” 

“I don’t want to break up with you, either.” 

Steve cleared his throat. “I love you.” It was so much easier to say than he’d ever dreamed. He beamed at Bucky. “I love you.”

Bucky’s smile was blinding. “I love you, too.”

“I want us to be together. Today and tomorrow and next year at school. I don’t want to be away from you anymore.” 

“I’ll go to New York. It won’t be so bad with you there.” Bucky bit his lip.

“No.” Steve shook his head. “I can’t ask you to do that. You’ve already done so much for me. I won’t let you do that too.” 

“I’ve done so much for you?” Bucky repeated. “What have I done?”

Steve smiled. “You’ve made me feel loved. You made me believe it.” 

“Good,” Bucky said ardently. “Because I do.”

“I know,” Steve said, pulling Bucky in for another kiss.

* * *

“Were you watching me while I slept?”

Bruce looked up from his biology textbook. “We were present while you were unconscious.” He smiled at his brother. “How’re you feeling?”

Pietro shrugged. “Fine. Bored. Thirsty. My chest is sore.” He coughed although it was dry and nowhere near as deep and heavy as before. 

“It makes sense your chest would be sore. You were coughing really badly before,” Bruce said.

“Here.” Wanda handed Pietro a straw-topped plastic cup. “It’s fresh.” 

Pietro used the bed’s remote to move it to a sitting position and took the offered water, thanking Wanda in Sokovian. “I remember,” he said to Bruce. “And then things got a little fuzzy. You brought me here by ambulance?”

“Yes.” Bruce cleared his throat. “You were very sick.” Wanda nodded her head, looking miserable.

“Hey, don’t worry.” He gripped his sister’s hand. “I’m much better now.” 

“And thank God for that. I don’t know what I would’ve done….” She swiped at her eyes. 

Pietro put his water down on the tray table and hugged Wanda, murmuring soothing words to her in Sokovian. 

Bruce looked out the window while the twins were comforting each other. The three of them were as close as siblings, but in moments like this it felt like the intense bond Pietro and Wanda shared had no room for a third member. It made Bruce feel very much alone. 

Pietro said something else in Sokovian that made them both laugh. He coughed and picked up his water again while Wanda finished drying her eyes. He looked out the window as he sipped. “It’s dark outside.”

“It’s nearly eight,” Wanda said. “You’ve been sleeping for a while.” 

“This sickness.” Pietro shook his head. “I feel like I’ve been sleeping for days!” 

“You have been. We brought you here on Saturday. Today’s Thursday,” Bruce said.

“Fuck me.” Pietro slumped back onto the pillows but immediately raised his head to look at Bruce. “I need to get back. I’ll get fired for sure otherwise.”

“They just took your breathing tube out yesterday. You're not going anywhere,” Wanda said sharply. 

“We can’t afford for me not to be working! You know that!” Pietro’s words ended in a coughing fit and it took a moment for him to regain his breath. 

“Oh yeah, you’re totally fine to go back to work,” Wanda said. “Maybe you can even go tonight.” 

Pietro glared at her. “Are you going to pick up the slack with your cute little cleaning job? Last I checked they barely gave you hours—”

“At least they don’t work me to death!” Wanda interrupted. “Your job, they’d let you work until you fell down dead! How is that better?”

“Stop!’ Bruce said loudly before Pietro could reply. He knew that they were arguing more from anxiety than any real anger, but it was hard to hear anyway. Especially when everything had changed. “Wanda, you know you guys don’t need to fight about this. Things are different now. It’s time we told Pietro about Phil and…and Tony and the others.” 

Wanda’s bottle green eyes flashed with trepidation but she nodded and sat down on one of the chairs. 

Pietro eyed them both suspiciously. “Who’s Phil?”

“He’s our new guardian,” Wanda said. 

“New guardian?” Pietro sat up, expression tight with concern. “We don’t need a guardian.”

“Actually, we do,” Wanda said gently. “Legally we’re not allowed to be on our own until we turn eighteen.”

Pietro’s expression turned mutinous. “I don’t want a guardian. Bruce turns eighteen in December. We can lay low until then. It’ll be fine.” 

Bruce shook his head. “It won’t be fine. CPS knows about us now. We’re in the system.”

“We can run away! Go to Massachusetts, or Texas, or Canada! We’ve survived this long—”

“No,” Bruce cut him off. “I am _not_ going to allow the two of you to live the way we’ve been. Not if there’s another option.”

“But what if he’s like Strucker? Or what if you get arrested? You’ll go to jail and we’ll be separated!” Pietro pressed a button on the bed’s remote and the side railing lowered. He threw off his blankets and stood. 

“Whoa!” Bruce caught him before he fell. “I don’t think you’re ready for this.”

“I got up this morning.” But Pietro didn’t fight Bruce as he helped him back into bed. 

“You got up with your nurse and sat in a chair this morning, and then you slept for six hours. What part of ‘you got your breathing tube out yesterday’ makes you think you’re ready for a marathon?” Wanda glared at her brother.

“But we have to go!” Pietro looked at his sister desperately. “Wanda, tell him we can’t stay here. Tell him he’s making a terrible mistake!”

“It’s going to be okay.” Bruce held Pietro against the pillows when it looked like he was going to try to get up again. “I know the man who’s going to be our guardian and he’s a good guy. I promise.” 

“What?” Pietro stopped his ineffective flailing.

“His name is Phil Coulson. He was the officer who helped me after my mother died.” Bruce had told the twins the story of how he’d ended up in foster care, but he’d never told them any real details. He realized suddenly that he’d told Tony more about his history than he’d ever told his brother and sister, and he’d known Tony for less than a week. 

“I remember hearing his name.” Pietro frowned. “I remember you telling us about him when we were still at Strucker’s. You called him to help but he never called you back. What’s he doing here now?”

“Turns out he couldn’t call me. He got shot at almost exactly the same time we had to run. He almost died.” 

“Wow.” Pietro’s eyes, the same dark green as his sister’s, went wide. “So he didn’t just forget you?”

“No he didn’t,” Wanda said. “And even better, Bruce didn’t actually kill Strucker!”

Pietro’s mouth fell open. “What?”

“That’s right.” Bruce smiled with the same sense of relief he’d felt ever since Phil had told him the good news. “He wasn’t even that badly injured. He never pressed charges. He didn’t want anyone to ask why I’d attacked him.” 

“Oh my God,” Pietro breathed. “He’s not dead?”

“He’s not dead,” Wanda repeated. 

Pietro was still staring, wide-eyed. “So Bruce is safe?”

“Yes, I’m safe.” 

Pietro closed his eyes and murmured something in Sokovian with obvious relief.

Wanda took his hand. “I know.” 

Pietro opened his eyes and looked at Bruce, squeezing Wanda’s hand gently. “While I’m grateful you’re safe, I still wish you’d killed him.” 

“Well, while I agree,” Wanda said. “I can’t be sorry that we don’t have to hide anymore. It’s going to be really nice not having to look over our shoulder all the time.”

“I hadn’t thought of that!” Pietro smiled widely. “No more fake names and low profiles!” He turned to Wanda. “We can get our Social Security cards! Apply for real jobs! You can stop cleaning other people’s messes for peanuts and I can quit that disgusting burger place!”

“All true.” Bruce grinned back. “I can even register for school now, instead of just going to class.” 

“This is so great!” Pietro enthused. “This is the best news! So where is this Mr. Coulson? When can we go home with him?” 

Wanda looked at Bruce, trepidation clear in her eyes. “We actually have more to tell you.” 

“More good news like that, I hope.” Pietro grinned at them. “Is this Phil Coulson rich, for example? Are we now like Little Orphan Annie?”

Bruce smiled despite the tension that was curling through him. “Remember how we told you that you came to hospital by ambulance?”

“Yes. You said I was very sick.” 

“You were.” Wanda’s expression showed her distress. “So sick that Bruce and I didn’t know what to do.”

“I asked a…a friend for help,” Bruce said, not quite ready to bring up Tony. “He brought his brother, who's studying nursing to our apartment, and together they realized you were sick enough that you needed a hospital. They made sure you got an ambulance, and then they drove me here.” 

“And they kept us company and bought us food,” Wanda added. 

“That’s right.” Bruce nodded at her. “And then my friend called his dad, and his dad happens to be Phil Coulson, which is how we met up again. Phil remembered me and wanted to help, and one of Phil’s best friends is a woman named Melinda. She’s a case manager for Adoption Services and she arranged for Phil to be our guardian. At least until I turn eighteen.”

“Bruce and I have been staying with her and her husband Nick while you’ve been in hospital. They’re very nice.” 

Bruce rolled his eyes. “At least to _you._ Nick hates boys.”

Wanda smirked. “Nick obviously has good taste.” 

“Nick yelled at me for putting my feet up on the coffee table while we were watching TV,” Bruce explained to Pietro. “Wanda spilled a glass of orange juice on their white carpet and he didn’t say anything.” 

Pietro laughed. “He sounds like a real hard-ass.”

“He bought me cupcakes with sparkly icing,” Wanda said brightly. “He said I could visit anytime.”

Bruce made a face at her. “I hate you.” 

Pietro laughed again, but then sobered. “Phil isn’t like that, is he? He won’t yell at us?”

Bruce knew that Pietro was thinking about their time with Strucker, and possibly about the two years the twins spent in a Latverian refugee camp before that. Bruce didn’t know everything that had happened to the twins there, but he knew it hadn’t been good.

“No.” Bruce shook his head, glad he could give Pietro this reassurance. “Phil is a really decent man. He stepped up to help us even before he knew it was me.” 

“His children speak very highly of him.” Wanda shrugged. “Well at least Tony and Steve do. I haven’t met the rest.” 

Pietro frowned. “'The rest’?” he repeated. “How many children does he have?”

“He’s already taken in five other kids,” Bruce said. “And four of them are boys.” 

“Holy shit,” Pietro breathed. “ _Five?_ “

“Yeah. Phil’s not married and he’s never had kids of his own, but after he had to leave the NYPD I guess he just decided to adopt a bunch of teenagers. My friend is one of them.” Bruce looked at Wanda as he said it and bit his lip. There was absolutely no reason to continue to not tell Pietro about Tony Stark, but Bruce knew he was still stalling, afraid of Pietro’s reaction. 

“I can’t believe that your friend just happens to be the adopted son of that police officer you knew when you were ten.” Pietro shook his head in disbelief. “What is the chance of that?”

“I know. But what’s most important is how my friend wanted to help us. He even paid for the ambulance, and my cast.” Bruce held up his right hand. “He didn’t have to, but he did.”

“You broke your hand?” Pietro frowned. “When’d you do that?” 

“The morning we took you to hospital.” Bruce felt his cheeks heat with the memory of how he’d lost control.

Pietro’s frown deepened. “How?”

“He got it caught in a door,” Wanda said, repeating the lie Tony had told her and Bruce felt his blush deepen.

“Actually,” Bruce mumbled, “I got angry and punched a wall.” 

“That’s not what you told me!” Wanda looked scandalized. “Bruce!”

“Bruce,” Pietro admonished. “You can’t get angry like that anymore. You promised.” 

“I didn’t want you to be upset,” Bruce said to Wanda. “Things were difficult enough without you having to worry about me losing my temper.”

Wanda glowered. “I’m not going to thank you for letting your friend lie to me.” 

“I know, and I’m sorry.” He sighed deeply and turned back to Pietro. “And in the interest of full disclosure, I got angry again and threw a chair at…at Wanda. My friend broke his wrist keeping it from hitting her.” 

“What?” Pietro screeched and immediately dissolved into a coughing fit. “What the fuck?” he spluttered after Wanda had given him more water and he’d gotten his breath back. “You threw a chair at _Wanda?_ “

“He didn’t throw it at me,” Wanda said quickly. “He just threw it. I got in the way but Tony and Steve kept it from hitting me.”

The look Pietro gave Bruce was almost like a physical blow. “You’re damn lucky I’m stuck in this bed.” 

“I know, and I’m very, very sorry. I got angry and lost control and I know I said—I _promised_ you guys I’d never do it again and I’m really sorry. I swear that’s the last time. I promise.” 

“You’d better,” Pietro said warningly. 

“I will, I swear,” Bruce repeated. He relaxed a little when he saw Pietro’s expression soften.

“You’re okay?” Pietro said to Wanda. His eyes searched her for any signs of damage.

“I’m fine,” Wanda said gently. “It was Tony who got the brunt. He broke his wrist protecting me. Like Bruce said.” 

“Wow,” Pietro said in admiration. “He pays for everything, gets us a good guardian and then breaks his wrist protecting you….This guy Tony sounds pretty amazing.” 

“He is,” Bruce said. He looked warily at Wanda.

“Yes,” Wanda agreed, returning Bruce’s look. “He’s kind and nice and very generous. He’s a really good friend to have.” 

“Am I going to meet this guy? I assume I am, if he lives with Phil and we’re going to live there, too. So, I’ll get to meet him?” Pietro looked uncharacteristically uncertain.

“Absolutely.” Wanda reached over and took Pietro’s hand again. “And I’m sure he’ll really like you,” she said in response to Pietro’s unvoiced concern. 

“Of course he will,” Pietro said straightaway. “How could he not?” 

And it was time for Bruce to rip off the bandage. “My friend is Tony Stark.” 

Pietro went very still. “What?”

“He’s Tony Stark. Phil’s son, Bruce’s friend. The man who helped us. It’s Tony.”

“You swore to me you wouldn’t be friends with him.” Pietro’s eyes were as sharp as green glass. 

“That’s true and I’m sorry. I really am. But I thought you were going to die, Pietro! You’re breathing wasn’t good, and your fever was really high and…and I didn’t know what to do. I went to Tony because I thought he would help.” 

“He saved your life,” Wanda said. “He got you to hospital, and he paid for everything. The ambulance, Bruce’s cast, your hospital stay—”

“He killed our parents,” Pietro snapped. “Did you forget that?”

“Never! I will _never_ forget that! But it wasn’t Tony Stark who killed them. This man wouldn’t do that. He just wouldn’t.” 

“So he does _one_ nice thing for you, and suddenly you’re his biggest fan?” Pietro sneered. “And the fact that it said ‘Stark Industries’ on the bombs that killed our parents doesn’t matter anymore?” 

“Of course it does!” She stood and glared at him. “How _dare_ you say that the death of our parents doesn’t matter?”

“Tony didn’t kill them,” Bruce cut in. “He was only twelve when your parents died. _Twelve._ It wasn’t his bombs, and it wasn’t him. You can’t blame him for that.”

“We’ve already had this conversation.” Pietro’s eyes were sharp with anger. “And I told you that I couldn’t stand for you to be friends with him.” 

“He _helped_ you! Without even knowing anything about you he got you to hospital, and then he paid for my cast when I broke my knuckles by punching out the vent in his car—”

“I thought you punched a wall,” Wanda said. 

“I did both.” Bruce took a breath. “And then I also threw a chair, which _Tony_ stopped from hitting Wanda. He broke his wrist protecting her. That’s got to count for something!” 

“He broke his wrist protecting me,” Wanda repeated. “Pietro, please.”

“No,” Pietro shouted. “Our parents are dead because of him! Him and his father and every Stark that ever lived! I’d rather _die_ than owe anything to a Stark!” He coughed again, but this time he wouldn’t let Wanda help.

“He saved your life,” Bruce said. “You _were_ dying, and Tony got you to hospital when I was too paralyzed with fear to know what to do. He saved your life whether you like it or not.”

“I wasn’t dying! Don’t exaggerate just to make your point—”

“You _were_ dying!” Wanda yelled. “Steve and the doctor both said you would have _died!_ “

Pietro sagged back against his pillows. “I guess it doesn’t matter what I think anyway. We’re going to be living at his house. With him.” 

“Of course it matters.” Wanda sat back down on his bed and clasped his hand in hers. “But you need to realize that hating Tony won’t fix anything. Our parents are still dead.” 

Pietro swallowed hard. “How can I accept this? Stark Industries—”

“Killed our parents,” Wanda said softly. “Not Tony. His brother Steve told me that, if I was going to hate Tony, I should do it for what he’s actually done, not for something he hasn’t. He said that Tony already blames himself for enough things that aren’t actually his fault.” 

“He’s a good man,” Bruce said quietly. “He’s not a killer. I promise.” 

Pietro glanced at Bruce before refocussing on Wanda. He said something to her in Sokovian. Something that sounded sorrowful and defeated. She said something back, clutching his hand in both of hers. Whatever she said left Pietro blinking back tears. 

“I don’t know if I can,” he said to Wanda.

“Please, Pietro.”

He wiped at his eyes as he turned his face away. “I’d like to be alone now, please.” 

Wanda looked at Bruce, her expression pleading. Bruce shook his head as he stood. If Wanda couldn’t convince Pietro to let his hatred go, Bruce didn’t stand a chance. “We’ll go,” he said. “But we’ll be back tomorrow morning to see you.” He bit his lip.

“Sleep well,” Wanda said. 

Pietro’s only response was to lower the bed and click off his overhead light. 

“We love you,” she said to him over her shoulder as she pulled open the door. 

There was a painful silence, and then Pietro muttered: “I love you, too,” just loud enough for them to hear. 

Wanda and Bruce exited into the too-bright hallway. “Well, that all went…horrible.” Wanda nodded, resting her head on his shoulder. He looked down at her. “What did you say to each other, there at the end?” 

Wanda’s smile was sad. “He said that it felt like even considering not hating Tony felt like he was betraying our parents. Like their death didn’t matter. I told him that they’d raised us to forgive people, and that they’d never want him to live his life with that much hate in his heart.”

Bruce’s throat suddenly ached with unshed tears. His father had only ever had hate in his heart. “Your parents sound like wonderful people.” 

“They were. I wish you could’ve met them.” 

“Me, too.” Bruce sighed. There were a lot of things he wished for. “Me, too.”

* * *

“Thank you for confirming that,” Phil said, taking the offered file. 

“You’re welcome,” Melinda said. They were in the living room of Melinda and Nick’s brownstone, a beautiful home that overlooked a quiet residential street of Park Slope. Melinda’s family had owned the house since the end of the Second World War and it was worth far more now than her ancestors could’ve possibly imagined. She shook her head. “You know I’m shocked about this. I was shocked when I first heard about it.” 

“Sadly, I’m not. From what I’ve learned about the man, it actually seems like exactly something he’d do.” 

“How do you think they’re going to react?” 

Phil leaned back in his seat. It was one of a set of two over-stuffed chairs in the sitting area by the window of the living room, triangular to a large couch with an art-deco coffee table in between. 

“I have no idea,” he said. “I hope they’ll both be happy about it, but who knows?”

“It would be hard to hear,” Melinda said. “Especially since it hasn’t been than long since his parents died. It certainly won’t be easy.” 

“No, I can’t imagine it would.” Phil opened the file, looking her with raised eyebrows. “It’s all here?”

“It should be. Nick had the guys from the lab scan it and send it to me, and it looked good when I printed it. But make sure that it’s got everything you’ll need for them.” 

Phil opened the file and carefully went through each page. “It looks like everything’s here. Even though I heard about it at the time, I still can’t believe that this was done.” 

“It makes complete sense to me that it was. Nick told me that he got one of the detectives assigned to the case to do it when they first went missing. You know Nick. He would’ve wanted everything to be ready if it ended up being the worst case scenario.” 

“Trust Nick to be that thorough,” Phil said admiringly. “And of course it would’ve pinged the system automatically once even a partial match was found.” 

“You’d know about that better than I would.” Melinda looked at him speculatively. “What made you think of it, after all this time?”

“It was seeing them together, actually. Even without the black-and-white of these results I’d say it’s fairly obvious. You just have to look at them to see it.” 

Melinda frowned. “I noticed it, too. And that is yet another reason why I still don’t agree with the choice not to disclose it when we first found out, back when you were recovering in hospital.”

“I remember discussing it with Nick when he came to visit me, and then again several months later.” Phil sighed. “We’d still had no leads and we were sure they were dead. At that point it just felt like sharing it would’ve done more harm than good.”

“I get that. But even though I love Nick, I still think it was the wrong decision.” 

Phil shrugged apologetically. “I understood Nick’s feelings then, but I also understand yours now. Unfortunately all we can do is go forward.” He tapped the edge of the file folder on the table. “So when should I tell them?”

“At the farm,” Melinda replied with certainty. “It’s calm, peaceful, and there’s lots of places to run off to if one or both of them need to freak out.” 

Phil laughed. “Good call. And since Pietro is getting discharged in the morning it’ll give me a reprieve until at least tomorrow evening when I get them home. Thanks for letting me stay here, by the way. I didn’t relish getting up at four a.m. just to make it into the city by seven. “ 

“It’s not a problem for you to stay. You’re always welcome here. You know that.” 

“Thanks,” Phil said again. He smiled. “I’m looking forward to getting to meet Pietro when he’s actually awake.” 

Melinda gestured towards the file Phil still held in his hands. “How do you think he and his sister are going to react to that?”

Phil looked down at the file before looking up at Melinda again. “It really has more to do with Bruce then them. I’m sure it will be fine.”

* * *

“Isn’t it weird that we’re all just waiting here?” Tony whispered.

He was standing in the farm’s living room with his siblings and Pepper, waiting for Phil to arrive with Bruce and the twins. He, Steve and Pepper had left New York after Pepper’s morning class (and what kind of sadist scheduled class on Friday morning?) and had arrived just after lunch. 

That had been two hours ago, and Phil and his cargo were expected any moment. 

“This is what we did for everyone else,” Natasha said. She was sitting calmly on the couch playing with Clint’s fingers. “And quit whispering.” 

“You didn’t do this for me,” Tony sniffed. 

“You arrived a day early,” Pepper reminded him. 

Steve grinned. “And Natasha punched you. That’s got to count for something.” 

Tony smirked. “You’re just jealous.” 

“I punched Steve first,” Natasha said nonchalantly. “It just wasn’t the day he arrived.”

“She broke the coffee table! It was awesome,” Clint said proudly.

“Should I feel bad that Natasha didn’t punch me?” Bucky asked from where he was sitting on the loveseat with Steve. 

“I knocked you to the floor. That’s probably good enough,” Natasha said. 

“True.” 

“And you punched me, too,” Steve said to Bucky. “In fact, Clint’s the only one who didn’t take a swing at me at some point.” 

Clint smirked. “Want me to?” 

Pepper frowned mock-thoughtfully. “I’ve never hit you, either. Maybe I should change that?”

“How’d this become about hitting me?” Steve asked.

Tony shrugged. “You’re just very hittable. I mean, sometimes even I just want to punch you in your perfect teeth.”

“Nice.” Steve rolled his eyes. “But I think the family tradition of pounding on someone as soon as they walk through the door should probably not be continued with these guys.” His expression grew serious. “They’ve really been through enough.” 

“I don’t think anyone was actually going to do that, Steve. But it’s probably a good reminder. At least for Natasha.” Pepper winked at her friend.

“Rude.” Natasha made a face at Pepper. “I’ll have you know that I’m a reformed woman. I’m totally nonviolent.” 

“For sure,” Clint said sarcastically and then “ow!” when Natasha pinched him. 

“Should we have snacks or something?” Tony asked suddenly. “Maybe we should have snacks.” 

Pepper looked at him. 

“It just feels like we’re really early to a party and we didn’t bring anything.” 

“You’re really nervous,” Pepper said.

“I’m not nervous!” Tony said to Pepper. She raised one eyebrow. “Okay, I’m nervous.” 

Pepper squeezed his arm reassuringly. “It makes sense that you would be. You’ve got three new siblings. That’s a bit of an adjustment.” 

“But we’re all getting three new siblings,” Tony reminded everyone. “We should all be nervous. Not just me.”

“I’m nervous,” Bucky said quietly. He shifted so that he was leaning into Steve and Steve put his arm around him. Tony gave Bucky a sympathetic look. He knew how hard meeting new people was for him. There was no way this situation would make him comfortable. 

“Bruce is a really good guy,” Tony said to Bucky. “And his sister Wanda seems really nice. I’m sure Pietro is equally as delightful.” 

Clint turned in his seat to look at Tony. “I thought you said the twins hated you because your bombs killed their family.” 

“Thanks for the reminder.” Tony had told that fascinating bit of trivia to everyone at lunch, deciding that it was probably important for Bucky, Clint and Natasha to understand why Wanda and Pietro might be hating on him. Well, after the way he’d broke his wrist to save her, Wanda had seemed to accept him, Stark-warts and all. But Pietro was still the dark horse. Tony had never officially met him when he was conscious. He had no idea how Pietro would react. 

All the kids were protective of each other, and Tony knew that Natasha especially would be all over Pietro if he was mean to him. Not telling them about the twin’s history with Stark Industries might’ve made the punching-as-greeting Steve was worried about all the more likely to actually happen.

“I’m sure that it’s been sorted out by now.” Pepper took his hand and held it reassuringly. Tony had purposely put her on his left so they could hold hands. He still had five more weeks of a cast to look forward to. Considering he was right-handed it was kind of a bitch, but he’d deal. 

“I hope you’re right that it'll be sorted out,” Tony mumbled. 

The door opened and all the kids immediately came to attention.

“We’re home,” Phil said as he brought Bruce, Wanda and Pietro into the house.

* * *

“Sit down, please.” 

Bruce looked first at Tony and then at Phil before gingerly sitting on one of the grand leather chairs in front of the desk, hunching his shoulders as he tried to prepare himself for whatever it was that Phil needed to talk to them about.

“Are we in trouble?” Tony asked. “I mean, Bruce just got here and I don’t remember doing anything—which doesn’t mean I _didn’t_ —but usually….”

Phil looked surprised. “You’re not in trouble. Why would you think that?”

Tony looked over at Bruce. “Because you asked us into your office? You never ask me in here unless I’m in trouble or I need to talk to Sam.” 

_Sam,_ Bruce thought, storing the name to ask about later. He’d barely finished the pizza Phil had bought for dinner before Phil asked him and Tony to join him in his study. He was feeling nervous and off-balance and he was very glad that Tony was there with him. He had no idea what Phil wanted to talk to them about but he was sure it couldn’t be good.

“I’m sorry to give you that impression,” Phil said kindly. “I just had some important news for the two of you that I really felt couldn’t wait.” 

“Okay.” Tony shifted so that he was sitting forward in his chair. He slid a glance to Bruce. “We’re all ears.” 

Phil took a breath. He opened his mouth and then shut it again. “I’m not sure how to tell you this.” 

“Is my father getting out of prison?” Bruce’s heart spasmed in his chest. It was the worst thing he could think off.

“No!” Phil rubbed his mouth. “I’m not doing this very well, am I?”

“It depends. If you’re trying to freak us out, you’re doing an awesome job,” Tony said. 

Phil’s smile was weak. “Not my intent. I assure you.” He took another breath. “Okay. There’s no easy way to say this. You and Bruce are half-brothers. Howard Stark was father to you both.”

Bruce’s jaw dropped in perfect symmetry with Tony’s. “What?”

“Howard Stark was the father of you both.” Phil opened a manila file he had on his desk and handed each of them a copy of a lab report. “When Bruce disappeared, we ran his DNA as a precaution. The computer system is designed to flag all matches automatically.” He gestured at the papers in their hands. “There was a match.” 

Bruce reviewed the paper silently, his brain not able to register what he was reading. 

“Hey.” Tony’s voice was rough. Your Paternity Index is 100 percent.” 

Bruce looked back at Tony in total disbelief. “This can’t be right.” 

“It’s right,” Phil said. “We collected DNA on all the occupants of the residence you shared with Strucker. Both Wanda and Pietro shared DNA but neither had anything in common with you and neither one of them triggered any match in the system. It was you, and it was with Howard Stark.” 

Bruce shook his head. “We’ll have to run this again. It can’t be right. It just can’t.”

Tony grinned. “Why not? Steve said we looked alike. Maybe this is the reason.” 

“Because there’s no way that my mother could’ve met Howard Stark!” Bruce remembered his mother clearly. She was a small, frail looking woman who had a perpetual air of having been beaten—which of course was true. She’d been excellent at hiding in the background and going unnoticed. There’d be no way someone as flamboyant and charismatic as Tony’s dad would’ve been attracted to her.

Tony frowned in concentration for a moment. “You were born in December in the same year I was. So he would’ve needed to get your mother pregnant around March or April. My mother would’ve been almost nine months pregnant at the time.” Tony’s face fell as the reality of what he said sunk in. “Even when I least expect it, my father proves once again that he was truly king of the assholes.”

“You’re nothing like him,” Phil said quietly. It seemed like a discussion they’d had before. Tony nodded, chin in his hand, expression downcast. 

“My mother always said I was early,” Bruce murmured. “Because she married my dad in May. Guess that wasn’t exactly true.” 

“I’m sure your mother had a very good reason for saying that,” Phil said softly. 

“She sure did.” Bruce kept his gaze on the paper in front him, not really seeing it. “She met my dad when she was his student at university. He was at least a decade older than her, but she said she was taken by his maturity and how distinguished he was. How respected. But he had a temper and it frightened her, so she broke up with him in the fall of the year before I was born. They’d been living together, so he kicked her out and she told me she got a job as a maid in a hotel in Dayton for a few months before they finally reconciled. She’d always made it seem like their rushing to get married was because of how madly in love they were. Made it seem so romantic.” The paper crushed in his fist. 

Tony swallowed. “My dad always had a thing for maids. My mom only hired elderly women to clean our house because of it. While Dayton isn’t as glamourous as, say, Los Angeles, there’s no reason why he couldn’t have stayed at that hotel and had sex with her.”

“Glad to know my mother was just another notch in his belt.”

“Glad to know my mother had a faithless husband.”

“I think Howard’s actions hurt you both equally,” Phil said.

Bruce and Tony shifted into silence.

“Wait, wait,” Tony said suddenly. “Why was my dad’s DNA in the system anyway?”

“Your dad was a rich, famous and important entrepreneur with several threats against him. It seemed prudent to have it on file.”

“Smart,” Tony murmured. He looked over the lab report again, then his gaze snapped to Phil. “How long have you known this? Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“The tests were done when I was recovering in hospital from being shot. I didn’t get the results until well after Bruce had disappeared, which was still a good two years before you came into my life.” Phil’s expression turned infinitely sad. “And by then Bruce had been missing for a long time. There didn’t seem to be any point in telling you.” 

Bruce nodded his head at Phil’s logic. There wouldn’t have been any point in telling Tony that he once had had a brother who was missing, presumed dead. It would have been shocking and tragic all at once and a hell of a thing to dump on a boy who was already grieving the death of his parents. 

“Makes sense,” Tony said, clearly following Bruce’s logic. He licked his lips. “Did anyone tell my dad?”

Phil shook his head. “He wasn’t told for exactly the same reasons. It just didn’t seem fair to tell your parents, Tony. Not when Bruce couldn’t be found and we couldn’t be sure what impact the information would have on their marriage.”

“And that makes sense, too.” Tony looked back down at the paper, his jaw working as he clearly fought to get his emotions under control. “I think I know now why my mother turned to benzodiazepines and alcohol so soon after I was born.” 

“I think I know why my dad beat my mother to death.” Bruce put his head in his hands. His father had been a vicious brute who had taken out every single one of life’s frustration on his wife, but the source of his intense anger had always puzzled Bruce. His mom had said that he’d been an angry man before they got married, but after Bruce was born, everything had gotten so much worse. In his heart-of-hearts, Bruce had always assumed it was him—that there was something so inherently wrong with him that it had made his father rage. 

But it had never been him. It had been the fact that Brian Banner had seen how Bruce hadn't looked like him at all and had known he wasn’t Bruce’s actual father. Brian and Rebecca, his mother, both had light brown hair and light eyes. His brilliant father would’ve recognized Bruce’s lack of similarity very easily. 

He started to cry. “I would never do that. Even if my partner’s baby wasn’t mine, I’d love her and the baby anyway. I’d never hurt her for it. I’d never do that. _Never._ “

“Because you’re a good man,” Phil soothed as he pulled Bruce into his embrace. “I knew that when we first met and you’d been injured trying to save your mother. I knew it when you called me, wanting to save your siblings from Strucker, and I certainly know it now when you’ve spent the last three years trying to keep them safe from harm. You are very different from your father. So very different.” 

“Plus,” Tony chimed in. “He wasn’t actually, you know. Your dad.” 

Bruce stopped crying. He looked at Tony in wonder. “You’re right.”

“Yup. That total sonofabitch who raised you? Nothing to do with you genetically.” Tony waved the lab report towards Bruce. “Not a damn thing.” 

“I’m not actually his son.”

Phil patted his back. “No, you're not.”

“His issues, his anger. None of it is mine!” Bruce smiled, wide and happy. He felt lightheaded with relief as seventeen years of fear lifted off him all at once. “I’m never going to be like him.”

“Nope,” Tony said happily. 

“From this point onward,” Phil said quietly, “you get to decide who you want to be.” 

Bruce blinked. He turned to meet Tony’s gaze, deep brown eyes so much like his own. “I want to be your brother. I want to be Howard Stark’s son.” 

Tony’s smile was blinding. “You already are.” 

Phil gave Bruce’s back a final pat before letting go. “Congratulations to you both. I’m very happy you two found each other.”

“Me, too.” Bruce grinned.

“I can hardly wait to tell Pepper and the orphan brigade!” Tony beamed.

Bruce’s face fell. “I have to tell the twins.”

* * *

“And this where you and Bruce will be staying,” Clint said as he indicated the room with a flourish.

Phil had brought pizza home with Bruce, Wanda and Pietro, and after everyone ate and Tony had returned from driving Pepper home, Phil had asked for Bruce and Tony to join him in the study. Wanda had gone with Natasha to get her new roommate settled and Steve was studying downstairs. Bucky was with him, because ever since they’d made up Bucky had barely left Steve’s side. So that left Clint to show Pietro around. Not that he minded. He liked meeting new people.

Pietro walked into the room ahead of Clint, obviously scoping it out. “Not bad.”

“It used to belong to Steve and Bucky before you got here. It has the best light.” 

“I can see that,” Pietro said admiringly as he took in the view. He turned back to look at Clint. “Are those horses?”

“Yep,” Clint said proudly. “We have nine of them. You can learn to ride, if you want.” 

“Can they go fast?”

Clint grinned at him. “You bet.” 

Pietro grinned back. “Then I want.” He coughed. 

Clint tilted his head. “Are you okay?”

“Left over from my illness.” Pietro waved his hand dismissively. “The doctors said it would take a few days for it to fade.” 

“As long as you’re okay. I’ve been in hospital before. I really don’t like it.” 

“You and me both.” Pietro grinned at him. He coughed again and then put his small bag on the bed by the window. “Since Bruce isn’t here to argue, I will take this bed.” 

“It’s the best one in the room,” Clint agreed. “If you leave the windows open you can sleep under the stars.” 

“Sounds beautiful.” Pietro gazed up at the sky. “The only window in our apartment in New York looked directly onto a brick wall. Not very inspiring.” 

“I used to be part of a travelling circus, before I came here. We slept outside all the time. Even though I really like it here, going to bed under the stars is something that I still miss.” 

“We should go camping!” Pietro exclaimed excitedly. “My parents used to take my sister and I all the time when we were growing up in Sokovia—” His smile dropped. 

“Oh yeah, we should totally do that,” Clint said quickly before Pietro got any sadder. “We could bring your sister, and maybe Natasha. Although she doesn’t really like roughing it too much…”

“Natasha,” Pietro said, and his grin was back. “She’s the small redhead, yes?”

“Yes,” Clint said warily. He could guess by the way Pietro was smiling that he probably thought Natasha was cute and he didn’t want the other boy to get any ideas. “She’s my girlfriend.”

Pietro’s grin widened and then, as if he was reading Clint’s mind he said: “Don’t worry. I’m not interested in stealing her from you.” 

“I wasn’t worried,” Clint lied. Although, if he was honest with himself, Pietro was handsome enough to make anyone worry. Even with his ugly mop of bleached hair that contrasted horribly with the dark brown underneath. He and his sister shared that same dark hair, and they both had incredible green eyes that reminded Clint of Natasha as soon as he’d seen them.  
Wanda was also small like Natasha, and she had a pretty heart-shaped face that made her look really sweet and delicate. 

Pietro didn’t look delicate at all. He was tall and muscular for a fifteen-year-old and Clint had to look up at him already, which kind of sucked. He’d probably be as tall and as big as Steve before too long. Maybe even as good looking too. 

“I like the taller girl, with the reddish-blond hair,” Pietro said as he began to unpack his few items. “What’s her name?”

Clint couldn’t suppress his sigh of relief. “That’s Pepper. But don’t get your hopes up. She’s Tony’s girlfriend.” 

Pietro’s grin turned wry. “Too bad.”

“Not for Tony.” Clint grinned.

Pietro rolled his eyes. “So, after you, and the others, who else is there to meet around here?”

Clint thought for a second. “Well, there’s Sam, our counsellor, and our teachers: Ms. Carter, Ms. Foster and Mr. Odinson. And Pepper’s family down the road.” 

“Our teachers?” Pietro repeated. “You mean at school?”

“Yeah, but here. We’re all home schooled at the farm. Well, except for Steve and Tony, and your brother too, I guess, because they’re off at university now.”

Pietro blinked. “You don’t get to go to high school?”

“We do go to high school. Just here.” 

“But how do you get to meet new people?” Pietro persisted. “Doesn’t it get boring?”

“No. It’s nice, actually. The teachers let you learn at your own pace and being with my brothers and Natasha means that no one bugs me about my reading and stuff. It’s nice.” 

“The same people all the time?” Pietro shook his head. “It sounds boring.” 

“My brothers aren’t boring.” 

Pietro shrugged. “They are for me.” 

Clint made a face. “They’re not—”

“Hi.”

Clint and Pietro both turned to the door where Wanda and Bruce were standing, staring at them both. 

“Um,” Bruce said from the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt, but I need to speak to Pietro about something.”

“You weren’t interrupting anything important,” Clint said. 

“No, nothing,” Pietro agreed easily. 

“Good.” Bruce was obviously waiting for Clint to leave.

“I’ll be downstairs,” Clint said as he exited. He jogged down the stairway, feeling the irritation from Pietro’s words rippling beneath his skin. “My brothers aren’t boring,” Clint murmured to himself. Pietro had better watch his mouth.

* * *

Bruce cleared his throat.

Wanda had immediately taken a seat on one of the beds in the room, while Pietro was standing beside her, arms loosely crossed. Both of them were looking at him expectantly, expressions open and so very trusting. He bit his lip.

“Don’t,” Wanda said. 

Bruce let his lip go. He cleared his throat again.

“So?” Pietro said finally. “What is this thing you need to tell us? Maybe we are leaving?” He looked far too happy at the idea.

There was no easy way to say it. “I’m a Stark.”

Regardless of their twin status, Pietro and Wanda didn’t really look any more alike than any sibling pair. But right now they wore identical expressions of shock.

“What?” Wanda said finally. 

“I don’t understand,” Pietro said at the same time. His lips formed a half-smile, as if he was expecting the punchline of a joke. “Did you and Tony get married just now?”

“Bruce took a breath. “Okay. It turns out that Tony and I share fifty per-cent of our DNA. Even though our mothers were different people, we have…had the same father. Howard Stark. Tony and I are brothers.”

Wanda’s expression stayed the same. “What?”

Pietro glowered. “This is a lie.” 

“No.” Bruce shook his head. “It’s true, Pietro. I saw the lab results myself.” 

“No.” Pietro said vehemently. “It is a lie!”

Wanda stood. “Bruce, is it true? Really?”

“Yes. It’s true, and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry to do this to you, but it’s true.”

“How?”

Bruce took another breath and explained it to her: how the NYPD had assumed they’d been murdered by Strucker and collected their DNA samples to prepare for the worst. And how, unexpectedly, his had ended up being a match for one of the richest men in the world. “He never knew about me. I’m positive my mother never told him.” Bruce finished.

“What does Tony think?” Wanda asked. “Is he…happy?”

Bruce grinned as he thought about his new half-brother. “Yeah, he is. We both are.” 

“This is hard,” Wanda said. “I was ready to learn who Tony Stark was. To see if I could maybe like him, despite his name. But I never expected this.”

“I know.” Bruce took one of her hands. “I know and I’m sorry. I would never have purposely done anything like this to you. But it doesn’t seem I have a choice. I am who I am.” 

“You could walk away.” 

Bruce looked at Pietro. “True, but I don’t want to. And I hope you won’t expect me to, either. Because I’d hate to lose you both over this.”

“You won’t. It may be hard for me, but I will accept it.” Wanda pulled Bruce into an embrace. “I’m so glad you’ve found your family.”

“Thanks,” Bruce said against her temple. “That means a lot.” 

Pietro was looking at Wanda with a mixture of horror and disgust. “How can you do this?”

Wanda lifted her head from Bruce’s shoulder. “Do what?”

“Accept it!” Pietro spat. “Tony Stark. Stark Industries— _his company_ —killed our parents! Starks are murderers!”

Bruce felt a flicker of anger. “I’m a Stark.” 

“No, you’re not!” Pietro shouted. “They are lying! Its lies! It’s _all_ lies! It can’t be true!”

“Pietro,” Wanda pleaded. “Don’t do this.”

“Don't do what?” Pietro railed, “be happy that my brother is now related to _that family?_ Be excited that I can now call a murderer my _brother?_ Betray the memory of our parents with—” he broke off, coughing.

“Just stop this!” Bruce snapped. “You’ll hurt your lungs with all your yelling!”

Pietro coughed again. “What do you care if I die from pneumonia? Starks wanted my family dead—”

Wanda slapped him.

He reared back, a hand pressed to his cheek, his expression one of utter betrayal. 

“I am sorry for that. But you were ranting like a madman. Now maybe you’ll hear some sense.”

“So,” Pietro said softly. “You have chosen your side.”

“There is no side to choose!’ Wanda cried. “Bruce is my brother, just as you are! There is no side!”

“I’m still the same person I was this morning,” Bruce said.

“You’re a Stark,” Pietro said flatly. “Everything is different.” 

Bruce forced himself to take a calming breath. “Clearly we’re not going to settle anything tonight. Maybe if you sleep on it.” 

“Yes. And the doctors said I needed plenty of rest to get well from my pneumonia. So if you’ll excuse me…” Pietro pushed past Bruce and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Well,” Bruce said musingly as he looked at the closed door. “That all went horribly.” 

“I think Pietro needs a bit of time to take everything in. I’m sure he’ll feel differently tomorrow.”

“I hope you’re right,” Bruce said. But right at that moment he wasn’t so sure.

* * *

Natasha snapped awake.

She lay in bed, wondering what had woken her. Turning, she looked over at the sleeping form of her new roommate. _Nightmare?_ Natasha wondered. Learning her oldest brother was actually a Stark couldn’t have been easy. It’d make sense if her dreams weren’t the best. 

But Wanda was still breathing deeply, clearly asleep. 

Natasha stared up at the ceiling, trying to focus past Wanda’s rhythmic breathing to hear what else might have interrupted her sleep. 

Then she heard the sound again. 

It was the unmistakable noise of someone trying really hard to not make the floor squeak as they walked. Something that none of her brothers or Clint bothered with if they were up in the middle of the night. 

_Pietro_ Natasha thought. He probably needed to use the bathroom and was trying to be courteous. She closed her eyes. 

The squeaky steps moved down the hallway to the stairs. 

Natasha cracked one eye open. _Probably just wants a glass of water._ She closed her eyes and snuggled deeper into her pillow.

Her eyes flew open as she heard the sound of the house alarm chiming as it was keyed off. 

She sat up, straining her ears to hear if Pietro had actually left or not. It was warm in her bed and she was tired and for a moment she debated just going back to sleep and leaving Pietro to his own devices. 

But then Wanda sighed softly as she slept, blissfully unaware her brother was leaving, and Natasha’s decision was made. She got out of bed and went down the stairs. The main floor was dark and clearly empty. Pietro had already left. 

Quickly Natasha slipped on her running shoes and pulled on Clint’s fall jacket before heading outside. The night was barely illuminated by the lights from the house and the barn, leaving long stretches of darkness lit only by the silvery glow of the moon and stars. 

It was cool outside, the air tinged with the crisp bite of the approaching winter. Natasha was wearing a fleece nightgown and the breeze was chilly as it blew around her bare legs. She shivered and buttoned up Clint’s jacket. 

Pietro was nowhere in sight.

“Damn he moves fast,” she muttered as she looked around. She considered the path towards the horse trails, but immediately dismissed it. Pietro was a city boy. The last thing he’d want to do was go into the forest at night. 

Turning towards the driveway she broke into a run, hoping he hadn’t gone so far that she wouldn’t be able to catch him.

She found him around the next bend, walking so fast he might as well have been running. He had his small pack on his back and he was wearing what looked like Bucky’s coat.

She caught up to him, panting a little with her effort, and fell into step beside him.

“Hey.”

He looked at her before facing forward, expression tight. “I’m not going back.” 

“I’m not here to bring you back.” 

He looked at her again. “Then why are you here?”

She shrugged, Clint’s jacket bunching and then sagging around her shoulders. “Maybe I wanted a walk.” 

His lips thinned. “Maybe you are stupid.” 

“And maybe you’re an asshole. But here we are.” 

“Is that how you plan on wooing me back? By calling me an asshole?”

“I’m not here to bring you back. I just said that.”

He stopped walking to face her. “Then why _are_ you here? And don’t tell me it’s because you wanted a ‘walk.’” He made air quotes with his fingers. “Because I don’t believe it.”

“I’m here because you’re here.” She crossed her arms. “So why are _you_ here? Running away in the dark? You seem more like the fight-it-out type.”

He tilted his head. “Is that a compliment?”

“No.”

“Whatever.” He shifted his pack and started walking again. Natasha jogged a few steps to keep up. 

“So?” she said to him after they’d walked a few minutes in silence. The farm’s driveway was over two miles long but Pietro was setting a decent pace. Natasha could already see the lights from the main road ahead. 

“So what?”

“Why are you out here?” she repeated. “You never answered my question.”

“There is no place for me back there.” Pietro indicated the farm with a quick toss of his head. 

“Sure there is. You’ve shared a room with Bruce before. Tony said you even slept in the same bed. It can’t be that hard to be sharing again.” 

He made a face. “That’s not what I meant.” 

“So what did you mean?”

“Bruce is a Stark. Wanda is happy about this. Everyone is one big happy family, only Wanda forgets that we _had_ a family. A mother and father who loved us and who were killed. Killed by Starks!” He shook his head. “There is no way I can stay there.” 

Natasha looked at him askance. “I guess it wouldn’t help to remind you that Tony is totally, completely and absolutely not like his father?”

“No.” 

“Or the fact that Bruce is the same guy he was yesterday, no matter who his biological dad is?” 

Pietro gritted his teeth. “No.” 

She tilted up one shoulder. “Okay.” They kept walking in silence, the only sound the crunch of gravel beneath their feet.

“So, what’re your plans?” Natasha asked finally. “You know, when you get to the road?”

“I will go back to New York and get a job.” 

She frowned. “Where’re you going to live?”

“I’ll find somewhere.” 

“Your pack’s really small,” Natasha noted. “Not a lot of stuff in there.”

“I don’t need a lot.” 

“Did you pack your antibiotics?”

He coughed as if he’d been suddenly reminded of his illness. “I’ll be fine.”

“You know it’s going to be winter soon, right?” 

He looked at her. “I’m not stupid.”

“Okay,” she said amicably. “I’m sure you’ll find a really nice place to live well before it gets too cold.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said again.

“I didn’t say you wouldn’t be. I’m sure you’ll be a great drug mule. Or a prostitute.” 

He whirled on her. “I would never do something so degrading! How dare you say that!” 

“My mother was a prostitute!” Natasha said angrily. “She sold her body to make sure I could live!”

He bobbed his head back. “I didn’t know.” 

“Of course not.” She sniffed. “It’s not like you’ve stuck around long enough to find anything out about us.” Natasha looked away from him, out into the night. “She died.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said solemnly. 

“Me too. She was a prostitute and she died from a drug overdose. Just another poor immigrant who couldn’t reach the American Dream.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. But that won’t happen to me.” 

“Of course not,” she said sarcastically. “Just because my mother had a university degree and was ten years older than you and still couldn’t make it certainly doesn’t mean you won’t.”

“I told you, I’m not going back.”

“Careful, you’ll chip your teeth.” 

Pietro loosened his jaw. He slid a glance at her. “What happened to your father?”

“I don’t know. I never knew him.” 

“That is very sad,” he said softly. 

“I have Phil now.” She smiled as she said it, thinking of her adopted father. “He’s a great dad.” 

“I had a father, and a mother both. I don’t need another.” 

“You have a sister, too. And an adopted brother,” Natasha shot back. “And they’re both still alive and yet you’re running away from them.” 

“They have each other. And Tony Stark and Phil and you and all the others now. They’ll be fine.” 

Natasha sneered. “Right. Because it’s so easy to lose someone you love. No one ever has any problems with that.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’ve got my plan. I’ve finished talking.” Pietro shifted his pack again and sped up his pace.

“Fine.”

They walked in silence for a few more minutes until they reached the end of the driveway and were on the main road. Pietro stopped, looking both right and left, as if he was trying to figure something out. 

Natasha put her hands into Clint’s jacket pockets, waiting. 

“So, which way?” Pietro asked finally. 

“I thought you didn’t want to talk.” 

“Cute.” He frowned at her. “Which way?”

“You’re the one with the plan.” 

His eyes narrowed. “I will go right.” 

“Okay.” Natasha fell into step beside him.

Pietro stopped. “Stop following me.” 

“I’m not following you. I just happen to be walking in the same direction.” 

“Bullshit. Go home, little girl. I don’t want your company.”

“Fuck you, _little boy._ It’s a free country.”

“Stop following me!” he shouted. “There is nothing you can do to make me go back!”

“I don’t care if you go back!” Natasha shouted back. “This isn’t about you!”

“So why are you here?” He continued to yell. “Why won’t you go home?”

“I’m here for Wanda! And Bruce! Those two people who care about you. I don’t care what you do, but I do care what you do to _them!_ “

He blinked. “But you don’t even know Bruce, or Wanda. Why do you even care?”

“Because I’ve been there. Because losing someone you love sucks. And Wanda and Bruce love you, and they don’t deserve this.” She waved her hand around to encompass the night and the road and Pietro’s flight into the darkness.

“Well I didn’t deserve to have my parents blown apart! I didn’t deserve to think I was going to die for _two whole days_ while staring at a Stark Industries bomb! I didn’t deserve two years in a refugee camp! _I didn’t deserve any of this!_ “

“And yet, here you are, ready to hurt Wanda and Bruce the same way. Maybe worse, because Wanda lived through all that shit with you. And now you’re going to make her have to go through all of it again.”

Pietro glared at her. “You don’t understand.” 

“Pretty sure I do,” Natasha said. “Your parents died and you’re really sad about it, and you’re blaming Tony because he’s right there. And now Bruce is a Stark as well, and you can't stand it, because if you’re good with Bruce, then you have to be good with Tony. I get it.” 

He looked away. “You don’t understand,” he repeated.

She sighed. “I just need to know if you’re actually going to go through with this. This stupid plan to try to run away to New York. Because I’ll need to figure out what to tell everyone when I get back and you’re not there.” 

“I’ve spent so many years hating the Starks and everything they stood for. It feels wrong to just…stop. Like I’m betraying my parents by not hating the Starks anymore. I don’t know what to do.”

“Look,” Natasha said, “I get it. Your beloved brother has just turned out to be family with your worst enemy, and I’m standing on a really dark road at midnight trying to talk some guy I don’t really know into coming home to be with people he doesn’t like. None of this makes sense. But I’m going to turn around now and start heading back. You’re welcome to keep going, to make your trip to New York and try to make things work there. But I really hope you’ll come back with me, to try to make things work at home. For Wanda, and for Bruce.” She took his arm. “Please?”

“But…”

“It doesn’t matter who Bruce is now, or what the Starks have done. Because no matter how angry you are, or how much you hate Tony, you’re never getting your parents back. But you have Wanda and Bruce, and five more siblings, if you'll give us a chance.”

He nodded, and to Natasha’s relief, he followed her when she turned around. 

“I still don’t understand,” Pietro said to her as they reached the farmhouse. “You don’t know me. Why would you come all this way in the dark just to bring me back?”

Natasha smiled at him. “You’re my family now, Pietro.” 

His return smile was tremulous but real.

“Plus, there’re packs of wild dogs that roam the woods and sometimes they attack people.”

“ _What?_ “

Natasha smirked. “It’d be really sad if they ate you and then got sick. Poor wild dogs.”

“Oh so funny.” Pietro scowled at her as they went inside.

“And one more thing,” Natasha whispered to him before they headed up the stairs. “New York was to the left.” She had to stifle her laugh as he glared at her.

* * *

“I hope today is a pancake kind of morning, because I really need pancakes,” Tony said as he came down the stairs. He was wearing flannel pajama bottoms and a tee-shirt that said ‘Genius’ with an arrow pointing upwards. His pants had chickens in party hats on a black background. “And coffee. Lots and lots of delicious coffee.” 

“Coffee will stunt your growth,” Phil said, giving the routine response to his request even as he handed him a cup.

“Too late,” Bucky said.

“You’re hilarious.” Tony took the cup and sighed happily as he sipped his coffee. He looked at Phil with big eyes. “Pancakes?”

Phil laughed. “Clint’s already started making them.”

“Hi!” Clint chirped from the stove where he was flipping pancakes on the griddle. He was shirtless and had on a pair of scrub pants that he’d been given by the hospital staff while he was recovering from the beating Barney gave him. Phil would’ve loved nothing better than to dispose of all the reminders of that awful time, but Clint loved them. 

“Are those banana?” Tony crowded up to Clint. “I love banana!”

“Actually they’re chocolate chip.” Clint blushed. 

“Natasha’s favourite.” Bucky grinned. He was standing at the table, carefully cutting up strawberries. 

Tony ambled away from the stove and watched Bucky for a moment. “It is truly amazing what you can do with only one hand.”

“You’re telling me,” Steve smirked as he wandered into the kitchen. He was wearing his running gear and was damp with sweat. 

Tony blinked. “Was that an innuendo?” Tony looked around the kitchen in fake amazement. “I think that was an innuendo! Well done Steve! We’ll pop your cherry yet!”

Phil made a face at Tony. “Enough of that.” He gestured at Steve with his chin. “Good run?”

“Yeah,” Steve enthused. “I went five miles in under 25 minutes!” 

“Wow,” Bucky said, impressed. “That’s a personal best for you.” 

“Yeah!” Steve beamed. He rubbed his stomach. “And now I’m starving.” 

Phil patted him on the back. “Go have a quick shower and then come down to eat.” 

Steve nodded and bounded up the stairs.

Tony watched him go. “How does he do that? It’s like he’s hopped up on some super serum or something.”

“He couldn’t do it when he was young,” Phil said. “He’s probably making up for lost time.” 

“Besides, exercise is fun,” Clint said as he transferred the pancakes to the oven to keep them warm. 

“Sure, in some weird alternate universe,” Tony muttered. He looked around. “Hey, where’s the Russian assassin, the wonder twins and my bro?” 

“Sleeping, probably sleeping and sleeping. Just an educated guess, but they’re not here, so.” Bucky shrugged and then swore when the strawberry he’d been cutting slipped out of his hand and bounced off the floor.

“Language,” Phil murmured as he scooped the fruit of the floor and rinsed it off in the sink. 

“Can I help?” Tony asked Bucky. “I’m feeling decorative instead of useful.” 

Bucky smirked. “Grab a knife and knock yourself out.” 

“But not with the knife,” Clint added helpfully. “That leaves scars.” 

“Thanks for the timely warning.” Tony grinned at Clint. He took a spot beside Bucky and began cutting. 

“Careful with your cast, lefty,” Bucky warned him. “You’re not as good one-handed as I am.” 

“Stop,” Tony said, deadpan. “My sides.”

Phil pulled out bacon and eggs and slipped beside Clint to start them cooking. He also took out some mushrooms and handed the package to Tony. “Can you please slice these for Bruce and Wanda? I doubt they’ll be having bacon.” 

Tony frowned at him. “You know this is enabling them, right?”

Phil ruffled his hair. “Yes.” 

“And speak of the herbivore,” Tony said as Bruce meandered in. He was already dressed in jeans and a tee-shirt that looked like they’d seen better days. _I need to take him shopping,_ Phil mused to himself. And probably the twins, too. 

“Hi,” Bruce said. “Can I help?”

“Are you okay with scrambling eggs if I’m cooking bacon nearby?” Phil asked. 

“Yep.” Bruce smiled at him. “Even though I don’t eat it, I understand that meat is a part of life.” 

“We’ll bring you to the dark side.” Tony smirked at Bruce. “Morning, bro.” 

“Morning.” Bruce picked up an egg with his casted hand and then nearly dropped it. “Whoops.” 

Bucky grinned. “You’re a worst lefty than Tony is.” 

“Nice.” Bruce shot him a look as Bucky laughed. He managed to crack the egg into a bowl and smiled triumphantly at Bucky’s surprised expression. He glanced around. “Wanda and Pietro not up yet?”

“Natasha’s still asleep, too. Although she’s usually awake by now.” 

As if summoned by Clint’s words, Natasha and Wanda came into the kitchen. They were both wearing fuzzy nightdresses with cartoon cats on them. Phil smiled to himself, glad that Natasha had been thoughtful enough to lend Wanda her sleepwear. 

“Morning, Papa,” Natasha said sleepily. She kissed Phil’s cheek and then went over to Clint to give him a hug. “Chocolate chip! My favourite!”

“He did that on purpose,” Bucky said to her. “In case you were wondering.” 

“That is very sweet,” Wanda said. “And good morning everyone.” 

“Morning,” everyone chorused back. 

Wanda pulled a chair out from the table and sat down. “I should help, but I don’t know where anything is.” 

“You can help clean up,” Phil said. “That way you can learn where everything goes. But for now, just watch. It’s okay.” 

“Thanks.” she yawned. 

“Did you sleep okay?” Tony asked. “I mean, I know Natasha snores horribly—”

“Shut up.” Natasha bopped Tony on the shoulder. She looked at Wanda. “Nothing woke you up last night. Did it?”

“No.” Wanda shook her head. “The bed was very comfortable and you were very quiet. I think it is because I did not sleep well when Pietro was in hospital.”

“I know how that feels. I hated it when Steve was in hospital,” Natasha said sympathetically.

Phil grimaced at the memory. Steve’s injury last winter had been scary for everyone. 

“But Pietro’s okay now. So you don’t have to worry anymore,” Clint said. 

Wanda smiled at him. “You really are sweet.” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Great. Clint gets another fan.” 

Clint grinned. “You’re just jealous because Wanda actually _likes_ me….” He realized what he said and the smile fell off his face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything.”

“It’s okay.” Wanda turned to Tony. “I do not hate you. In fact, it seems that since you are the brother of my brother, maybe we could be friends?”

Phil let out a small breath as Tony broke into a huge smile.

“Yeah, I think we could do that.” 

“Oh thank God,” Bruce muttered from the stove. He looked at Wanda. “Now if only Pietro could be that easy.” 

“He won’t,” Natasha said, and then shrugged when everyone looked at her. “Just a feeling.” 

“You’re not wrong,” Wanda sighed. “My brother can be…stubborn.” 

“How strange for an Eastern European male,” Natasha said dryly.

“Yes, very.” Wanda and Natasha shared a look of commiseration. “But I see he is still asleep.” Wanda stood. “Perhaps I will go wake sleeping beauty.” 

“He’s recovering from an illness. Let him sleep,” Phil said. 

“Yeah, I think he had a rough night,” Natasha agreed.

Tony frowned at her. “How would you know that?”

Natasha shrugged again. “Instinct.”

Just then Steve came down the stairs dressed in jeans and a button-down blue shirt. His hair was still damp. “Hey. Look what I found.” 

“Your grandpa’s shirt?” Tony said.

“Oh, ha ha.” Steve ushered Pietro into the kitchen. “I found Pietro in the hallway upstairs.”

“I was waiting for Wanda,” Pietro muttered. He was also dressed and he jammed his hands into his jeans. If anything his clothes looked older than Bruce’s. He’d rolled up the cuffs to try to disguise the fact he’d grown too tall for them. _Shopping,_ Phil confirmed to himself. Perhaps even later today.

“Well I was here, sleepyhead.” Wanda went to him and after a moment of some silent communication, she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek and he gave her a small smile in return. She asked him something in Sokovian and he shrugged and replied. His hands were still in his pockets and his bleached hair fell over his eyes. He looked tired and sullen and like he’d rather be anywhere else than there. 

Well, no time like the present to get Pietro to bond with the others. “Steve, could you please get Pietro’s help to set the table?”

Pietro flashed Phil a sour look but he dutifully followed Steve to the table to help move the fruit and mushrooms Bucky and Tony were cutting. The two boys worked in silence for a while, Steve passing Pietro cutlery and Pietro doing a passable job of setting it out. Bucky busied himself arranging the strawberries in a bowl while Tony started up the job of sautéing mushrooms for Bruce and Wanda. Natasha got Wanda to help her pouring juice and for a few minutes the kitchen was filled with the comfortable noise of people working together.

“Thank you for your help everyone,” Phil said when they were nearly done. “That was very cooperative.” 

“Welcome,” Steve said.

“I live for your praise,” Pietro said with a blatantly false smile.

Phil just nodded back to him as he heart sank. He’d hoped that Pietro would be fitting in as easily as his sister and Bruce were, but clearly that wasn’t the case. _But this time I’ll handle it better than I did with Bucky,_ Phil vowed. He still was angry at himself for his negative reaction to Bucky when Bucky’s not talking had caused so many problems right at the beginning. 

An awkward silence fell.

“So, uh,” Steve said suddenly. “I should probably tell you guys something.” 

Bucky’s head snapped up as Tony’s eyes widened. “You're not related to me too, are you?”

“This better not be about you joining the army again, Rogers,” Natasha said.

“Actually, no. I, um.” Steve took a breath, looking straight at Bucky. “I’ve decided to transfer from MSMU to a university here. I want to live at home.” 

Bucky’s smile was blinding. “Really?” He dropped the berry he was holding in the bowl and went to his boyfriend.

“Yes, really. I want to be here. With you.” They hugged.

“Finally.” Natasha rolled her eyes. “I’m glad that’s over.” 

“Me, too.” Clint beamed. “And more company for me and Natasha! Oh, and you and Wanda, too,” he said to Pietro.

“Wonderful.” Pietro looked away.

“I guess we’re going to have a couple of empty rooms in our dorm,” Tony said to Bruce. “First Bucky ditched us. Now Steve. Want one?”

“Yes!” Bruce said, but then his face fell. “But I have no money, and I’m not even registered.”

“Now that you’re legal again we can fix that,” Phil said to him. “We can probably get you registered in time for second semester.”

“Or earlier. It is _Maria Stark Memorial University,_ after all. The Stark name is useful for some things.” Tony tilted his head. “And now that you’re a Stark, money’s not really going to be a problem for you, either.” 

Bruce blinked as Wanda let out a small shriek of surprised glee. “I hadn’t thought of that.” 

“Yep. Us Starks? Stinking rich. And now you are, too.” 

“You cannot just buy us.” Pietro narrowed his eyes at Tony. “We are not commodities for purchase.” 

“What?” Tony looked genuinely surprised. “I’m not trying to buy you!”

“Tony helps all of us with school,” Steve said to Pietro. “For example, he’s been supplementing my residence since I got there.”

Tony narrowed his eyes at Steve. “How’d you know that?”

“I read my account statements.” Steve grinned at Tony. “And even though I’m moving back, thanks.”

Tony grinned back. “Welcome.”

“Pietro,” Wanda said as she took her brother’s arm. “Think what it will mean to finally have money. You’ll be able to join the track team instead of working after school. You’ll be able to hang out with your friends.”

He shook her off. “What track team? What friends? We don’t get to go to high school living here. We’re home schooled.” The way Pietro said ‘home schooled’, like it was something foul, made Phil wince. 

“That’s not true. Everyone is entitled to go to any school they wish. They’ve just all decided to stay with the home school program due to the high level of education they’ve been receiving. But if you’d prefer to go to the local high school, that can certainly be arranged.” It saddened Phil that Pietro was rejecting everything out of hand. He thought of Bucky and reminded himself to be patient.

Pietro blinked. “You would do that?”

“Yes. If that’s what you want.” 

“I want,” Pietro said definitively. He looked like he was still geared for a fight.

“Then it’s done. As soon as you’re cleared by the doctor, I’ll take you in and we’ll get you registered.” Phil smiled at the boy who was still looking a bit stunned. 

“That simple?” Pietro asked Phil. “I ask and you give?”

“If I can.”

“He’s not nearly as tyrannical as he looks,” Tony said and then; “ow!” after Steve smacked his shoulder. 

Pietro turned to Natasha. “Is this what living here is like?”

Natasha nodded. “Yep.” 

“We get treated pretty well,” Clint said. 

Pietro was still looking surprised. “Maybe…maybe this is not so bad.”

Wanda squealed in joy and threw her arms around him. 

“And now can we eat breakfast?” Bucky said plaintively. “I’m starving.”

* * *

It was just after dawn on Sunday. “Hey, Bucky?” Steve whispered as he gently knocked on the door of Bucky and Tony’s room. 

The door opened and Bucky slipped out into the hallway, already dressed. His hair was still damp from his shower. 

“I got your text,” he said softly, beaming at Steve. 

“Great.” Steve grinned back at him, allowing himself to get lost in the silvery-grey of Bucky’s eyes for a moment. He stroked Bucky’s cheek with his thumb. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, punk.” Bucky leaned forward and kissed him softly. “Now, let’s go riding!”

The two young men clamoured down the stairs, jostling each other as they raced for the door. “Be quiet, you’ll wake everybody!” Steve hissed at Bucky and then when Bucky slowed to make less noise, Steve pushed past him to reach the door first. He raised his hands in victory.

“You cheat!” Bucky shoved him gently with his right hand. 

“I still won. C’mon,” Steve smacked his shoulder and they headed outside to the barn.

Once there, they traded their sneakers for the riding boots they kept in the tack room and went to get their horses. Winter was already awake and chewing through the fresh hay that Clint had given them the night before. He nickered softly in greeting. 

“Hey fella.” Bucky handed Winter an apple he’d snagged from the kitchen on the way out. Winter chomped through it happily and as he was eating Bucky led him out of the stall.

Steve’s horse, Captain, seemed less eager, but he perked up when Steve fed him another illicit apple. Phil bought old apples at discount for the horses and didn’t like it when the kids fed them from the fruit bowl in the kitchen. Which of course meant that the kids did it all the time. It was a good week when a new bag of apples lasted longer than two days. 

Captain’s nose was warm and soft like velvet, and Steve stroked the horse gently as he chomped. If anyone had told Steve that he’d be leaving early on a Sunday morning to go riding when he was growing up small and sickly in Brooklyn, he would’ve laughed out loud in disbelief, probably wheezing as he did.

Of course he would’ve done the same if anyone told him he’d have a boyfriend as amazing as Bucky. 

Steve looked up from stroking Captain’s nose. Bucky was fastening Winter’s halter to the lead ropes attached to the wall to keep him still when Bucky put on his saddle. As if feeling the weight of his gaze, Bucky turned to him, face split with a wide smile. 

Steve gave Captain a small pat and left him in his stall. He walked over to Bucky, and before his boyfriend could even react, leaned in and kissed him. 

Bucky responded immediately, wrapping Steve in his arm and opening his mouth to allow Steve’s tongue entrance. Steve could taste the faint mint of Bucky’s toothpaste along with a sweet flavour that was Bucky’s own. He sucked on Bucky’s bottom lip, making the other boy moan with pleasure. 

The sound was intoxicating and Steve deepened the kiss, pressing Bucky to him until they were fused, chest to hip. 

“You’d better stop,” Bucky gasped against his mouth, “or I’m going to take you for a totally different type of ride.” 

Steve laughed as he pulled away. “C’mon. We shouldn’t leave Winter tethered for too long.” 

“Kay.” Bucky moved away from Steve, pretending to balance. “That kiss was awesome.” 

Steve stroked the side of his face. “You’re amazing.” 

Bucky met his gaze, his eyes as dark as pewter in the early morning light. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” He traced Bucky’s bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. “So much.” 

Bucky kissed him, gentle and infinitely sweet and Steve found himself once again getting lost in the kiss, when Winter suddenly whinnied and thumped his hoof against the wall of the barn.

“Holy shit!” Bucky gasped as he and Steve jumped apart. 

“Something’s upset him.” The horse was tugging against the strap holding him to the wall, his eyes white and rolling.

“Hey. Easy boy,” Bucky soothed him as he looked around the barn for the source of the horse’s distress. “Did an animal get in here or something?”

Steve's eyes went wide. “Oh my God.”

There was a man in the newly-opened doorway of the barn. He was young, but tall and lean and his hair was a colour that instantly reminded Steve of polished brass. He was dressed in clothes that looked hand-made, but he had no coat despite the cooler weather. He didn’t have any shoes either, and his feet were covered in the stained remnants of thick, wool socks. His dark blue eyes were heavy-lidded like remaining conscious was an effort. He had propped himself up against the doorframe as if he could barely stay standing. 

There was a gash of old blood on the left side of his head. The right side of his body from his shoulder to his waist was soaked with blood. There was so much blood that his skin looked purple.

Blood was still falling in slow, fat drops from the fingertips of his right arm, landing silently onto the barn’s cement floor. 

“Holy shit,” Bucky breathed. 

“Go get help,” Steve said. Bucky immediately took off back towards the house. 

The man was looking at him, face slack and eyes fogged with pain. 

“My name’s Steve.” Steve said as he moved slowly towards the man, hands up with the palms facing out. “You look like you’ve been hurt.” Now Steve could smell the strong coppery scent of blood, and underneath it the sickly sweet smell of infection. Whatever had happened to this man it hadn’t been that recent. It was amazing that he was still standing. 

The man’s gaze was still on him. “My name’s Jonas.” He had a British accent.

“Hi, Jonas.” Steve kept his hands out. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” Jonas sighed. And then his knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground. 

 

END

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for Squeaky's Already Where You Belong Series](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4973209) by [taibhrigh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/taibhrigh/pseuds/taibhrigh)




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